


the last great american dynasty

by all2well



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Politics, American AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern Era, Political Campaigns, is that actually a thing, or i suppose lovers to enemies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all2well/pseuds/all2well
Summary: Born to one of the most prominent political families in New England, Sirius Black was taught from a young age that he was destined for political greatness. When his father, Orion Black III, passes away unexpectedly and leaves an open seat in Congress, Sirius throws his hat into the ring and aims to be the youngest Representative over a century. Facing challenges and obstacles from every side, he rounds up his friends from college - including his college ex, Remus Lupin - to join him in a campaign quite unlike any other.Eventual Wolfstar and Jily.
Relationships: James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 145
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

After nearly four years of diligently avoiding every haunt where he might find him again, Remus Lupin was undermined by the last thing he expected: the small television that Lily Evans had so generously donated to their tiny living room just last year. At 8:33 a.m. on a Thursday morning in February, Remus caught a glimpse of Sirius Black’s crooked, wildly handsome smirk on his television and came apart as easily as an unraveling thread on a sweater that he should have thrown out a year ago.

It was one thing to have sat with Sirius in the dining halls and in the common rooms of St. Godric’s University, where he had spoken charmingly and yet sardonically about his family’s absurd political rituals and the destiny that his family insisted was written in the stars for him. He had told them all with a wry tone about the late nights that he and Regulus had spent being trotted out for his father’s fundraisers as though they were two well-behaved pets.

It was quite another for Remus to have to confront him – well, not quite confront, he rationalized, since Sirius could not see him – from the relative comfort of his slightly shabby living room. Even if Sirius could not see him, Remus felt exposed. It was as though someone had pulled down every curtain in his apartment and, for good measure, ripped his trousers straight off his body. Though he had imagined that Sirius would end up on television sooner rather than later, considering the Black dynasty to which he belonged, he didn’t think that Sirius would show up on a show that he didn’t even watch. Remus normally watched Dorcas Meadowes’s show right before _Morning Light_ (Marlene swore that one of these days, she would meet her and woo her over), but was now so late for work that he had caught the beginning of Rita’s. Besides, he thought furiously as he leaned against his sofa, wasn’t Sirius supposed to be in Washington, D.C. with his political chums and his despicable boss Lestrange, not back in Godric’s Hollow?

“Welcome to everyone joining us live,” the host of _Morning Light_ announced with a mouth full of glittering white teeth. Her bouncy blonde curls shone underneath the harsh glare of the studio lights. “This is _Morning Light_ , and I’m Rita Skeeter. We are lucky to have with us Sirius Black, who until recently served as a strategist and research analyst on Capitol Hill for Senator Rodolphus Lestrange. Sirius, welcome to _Morning Light_.”

“Rita, it’s an absolute pleasure,” Sirius said with an effusive smile. His television voice was as silky as ever.

“Sirius, first of all, please accept our condolences and those of our entire _Morning Light_ family on the loss of your father. He was a faithful and devoted public servant for almost thirty years.”

Remus sank back into his lumpy couch, too stunned to move. Was that really Sirius, tearing up on camera and talking about his father and the allegedly intimate relationship that Orion had had with his sons? There was no way that Sirius, who had railed against his father vehemently for so many years, would shed actual tears for him. If Lily hadn’t been at work already, he would have hollered for her to join him in the living room immediately. Remus had half a mind to phone her at the law firm where she was a paralegal and tell her to run to the nearest television, but he didn’t know if she would be in court.

“That means a lot to me, Rita, thank you,” Sirius said earnestly. “I want everyone to know that my father was a humane, gentle person at his core. And I also wanted to introduce myself to your viewers as someone who admired his father and learned a lot from his career but also is very different from him.”

Remus laughed out of outrage, or surprise, or quite possibly both. Orion, humane? The first three times that Remus had met Sirius’s father, he had been silent and hulking, hyper-critical of his son’s performance in school and on the soccer team, which he considered an absolute waste of time. He had been mildly attentive to James, who came from another wealthy New England family, but had ignored Remus and Peter altogether. The last time that Remus and Orion had encountered each other…well, Remus preferred not to dwell on it.

Rita pressed forward without hesitation. “Yes, that’s a good point, Sirius. Why did you want to come on our show today?”

“Well, Rita, the Governor is calling for a special election to fill in my father’s seat in Congress in the spring. I wanted to give you the exclusive first shot at the story: I will be running for the seat that he devoted himself to for over three decades and hope to represent the citizens of Godric’s Hollow on Capitol Hill.” Sirius’s eyes were bright and focused, but Remus could see the crinkles of exhaustion around them as the camera zoomed in on his face.

“How did you come to that decision, Sirius?” Rita asked.

“Well, my brother Regulus and I have known for a long time that we were lucky enough to be raised in a family of politicians.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Our grandfathers and great-grandfathers all served as public servants on the federal and state level, two as senators, one as mayor of this beautiful city, and the rest as Congressmembers. It’s a calling for us. And I know that some people might look at us and think we were born with silver spoons in our mouths –”

 _Which you were_ , thought Remus unkindly.

“– but we want to make sure that people know that the new generation of Blacks are different from the ideas and principles that our family has espoused for decades. We have that experience, but we’re…I’m…different,” Sirius finished without any real vigor.

 _You’re lucky you’re pretty_ , Remus thought forlornly.

“And how exactly are you different?” Rita asked, not unkindly but not exactly pleasantly.

Sirius flushed. “Well, we’re a new generation. My father, may he rest in peace, had a number of rather outmoded ideas on…um…many salient political issues.”

“And so are you saying that you are willing to run in opposition to the stances that Congressman Black took on social and economic issues?” Rita asked, a little more skeptically. “You’re saying here that you’re willing to commit to opposing your family’s views, the views that have kept them in office for over a century, publicly?”

Sirius laughed a little. “Rita, did Lucius Malfoy put you up to this?”

Rita pressed forward. “Yes, let’s discuss Mr. Malfoy, an attorney who also will be running for your father’s seat and claims to have more family values than the Black family ever could. What do you think about that?

“I’d ask him to keep my family’s name out of his mouth.”

“What are your thoughts on the perspective that your father ran on a platform of bigotry and hatred?” Rita looked delighted to grill him.

Sirius looked like he was sweating through his expensive-looking navy blue suit. “My father did nothing of the sort, nor will I. Godric’s Hollow is my home and it matters to me. That’s what I’m running here. I grew up in Godric’s Hollow, went to university here, and only left for Washington because the public sector called me there.”

“What do you say to your skeptics, who believe that your former boss, Rodolphus Lestrange, runs with corrupt politicians?”

“I would say that Senator Lestrange’s record speaks for itself. Thanks for having me, Rita.”

“Yes,” Rita said with a slight frown. She brushed it off with an award-winning grin. “Thanks for coming on here, Mr. Black. For our viewers at home, stay tuned for additional details on how you can participate in civic –”

Remus quickly turned off the television and jumped up off the couch, hoping against hope that the bus wouldn’t be too late. By now, he was extremely late to work. The interview had left a sour taste in his mouth that he was not sure could be washed out with a few cups of Earl Grey. No doubt, James was running around backstage wringing his hands together like an anxious mother. Remus knew that if Sirius was planning to launch his political career, James Potter would be right next to him. He was deeply unsettled as he wrestled his knapsack onto his back and locked the door behind him. He thought that he would have felt validated by watching Sirius flub on television and choke on Rita’s line of questioning, but somehow, he found that he had preferred the beginning of the interview, when Sirius had been artificial but charismatic. Watching him flail so hopelessly on television merely carved out a crater in his stomach.

By some miracle, the bus arrived a mere four minutes after he did. He climbed on and shot off a quick text to his boss, Dolores, to tell her that he would be late. Her response was immediate and cool, bordering on cold. Then, he looked at his recent messages. One from his friend Peter, asking if they could meet for dinner tomorrow evening. He quickly responded yes without looking at his calendar – he doubted that he had anything particularly exciting lined up. He had another text from Lily that had been sent just a moment ago.

_Saw that S.O.B was on the news. Yikes. Call me if you need anything. Love u xx_

Was Lily thrust back into her past in the same topsy-turvy way Remus was? Perhaps when she saw Sirius on television, she felt a wrench in her stomach as she remembered the friend who had betrayed them – and Remus, most acutely – in his shameless pursuit of power in the political world. Or perhaps she thought about James, her occasional friend with benefits in college, who was willing to gift Sirius the benefit of his loyalty even when everyone else accused him of selling out alongside him. Or perhaps she simply looked at the screen and saw a rising political star who was unfortunately not a particularly kind person and whom she had had the strange coincidence of attending college with, but who was otherwise a distant star in her world.

Remus did not have the luxury of demoting Sirius to a star at the fringes of his mind. For so long, Sirius had been the center of his galaxy, the brightest star in Remus’s sky. He had been Remus’s first everything, and had capped it off by being Remus’s first heartbreak. Three and a half years later, Remus had tried his best to follow Lily’s advice and forget him, but despite faithfully ignoring their old favorite places and keeping his distance from James (a truly painful decision, seeing as James Potter had been a loyal and exemplary friend during his college years), he had not been able to shed the memory of Sirius Black from his mind. Perhaps he should have moved out of Godric’s Hollow ages ago and erased the place entirely from his memory, but he liked spending time with Lily and her gaggle of girlfriends – Marlene, Mary, and Alice. He enjoyed having Pete nearby. And some part of him relished living in the shadow of the university where he had once whiled away time lounging on the grounds in the sunshine and reading in the majestic, recently renovated library (money provided by the Blacks, of course, who had attended St. Godric’s for generations). And anyways, Sirius was in Washington. Or so he had thought, anyways. The interview with Rita had rattled him, as it had not crossed his mind that Sirius in any way, shape, or form wished to return to his home district sooner than twenty years from now. He had been so desperate to get out, once upon a time.

The one positive of this, Remus reflected miserably, was that he was sure to have an enormous amount of research to do when he got to work. While he had initially been excited to be hired as a research librarian for one of the branches of the Godric’s Hollow Public Library, he was less than thrilled to work under the shadow of Dolores Umbridge. Dolores was by far the worst boss he had ever had – fastidious, exacting, and borderline cruel, and only growing more intolerable every year. Lily had begged him to quit after she made him come in at odd hours of the day and night for two weeks (just to see how he worked best, Dolores claimed), but working for the library paid decently and gave him time to write when Dolores was off trying to fundraise. Jobs were hard to come across these days. Plus, he could not see himself starting anew somewhere completely different, and going back to the town that he had once called home was a non-starter. Though he reckoned that the prospect of Sirius being his Congressmember did make the prospect of leaving more appealing.

Yes, Remus thought gloomily as he entered the library and saw Dolores smiling wickedly at him, if work didn’t take his mind off Sirius Black and his interview, nothing would.

***

Peter insisted on meeting Remus for dinner at eight on Friday night at a French restaurant downtown. Remus was irritated that Peter wanted to meet at the brasserie, seeing as it was neither close to Remus’s home (or the library, for that matter) and rather more expensive than Remus would have liked to spend on a single meal. This splurge was not uncharacteristic of Peter, unfortunately. Though he made middling money as a bureaucrat for the City, his parents were somewhat well-off and able to support him enough to make up for the luxuries that he enjoyed. Remus also made middling money but minus the back-up parents.

It was pouring rain by the time that Remus left work, and his poor excuse of an umbrella failed him almost completely. He was in a terrible mood by the time that he caught the bus, which became an abysmal mood by the time he had transferred onto the train and then walked for another ten minutes. He reached the trendy little bistro sixteen minutes late and with a grimace plastered on his face.

Peter looked nervous when Remus showed up. He kept looking down at his watch and then at his briefcase and then at the street, and his eyes darted so frequently that Remus thought he might give himself whiplash. That was also, unfortunately, not completely out of character for him. Sometimes, Remus thought Peter looked more like a small rodent, though he immediately felt terrible for thinking it. His small eyes were often beady and watery-looking. He had the habit of putting his hands together up at his chest, like a rat. Remus always wondered what Peter would have done in college if the four of them had not randomly been assigned as roommates in freshman fall, or what he would have done if St. Godric’s had been the sort of school where people tended to live off-campus rather than in the dorms. Luckily for Peter, he had ended up in a suite with Remus, Sirius, and James, and had never had to concentrate on making friends outside of his group. People normally flocked to Sirius and James for their affability and charm, making life much easier for Peter on the social front.

“Remus, my old friend, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I had to be coerced into it,” Peter squeaked as the waitress nodded them in and led them towards the back of the restaurant.

“Pete, what are you talking about?” Remus asked grumpily, shaking the water out of his light brown hair. He felt droplets sink into his cable-knit sweater. Lucky that it wasn’t cold enough to snow, he thought with some effort of gratitude. He tried to close his stiff, black umbrella, but it seemed like a fruitless endeavor.

“I’m sorry, Remus, I really am,” Peter moaned.

Now, Remus was not only exasperated, but also curious. “What are you sorry for?”

“Well…he just called me up this morning…and asked…well…asked me if I would…you know…”

“Pete, quit it, alright, it’s been a long day. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is,” a buoyant voice announced as they finally reached a table in the back, “that Monsieur Pettigrew here brought you here on a mission.”

 _Peter’s a traitor_ , Remus thought with horror. He stopped jiggling with his umbrella. It clearly did not read the tense atmosphere in the room, since it opened and doused the four of them – Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James, who was sitting at the table looking tense and unhappy – with rainwater. Peter wiped flecks of water off his face and looked fearfully from Remus, back to Sirius, and finally to James for comfort.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Remus shouted at Peter and at Sirius.

The conversation around the main dining room ceased. Couples turned around to look at them, and then delicately turned back to their own tête-à-têtes.

“Remus, let’s maybe talk about it, I know you weren’t expecting to see us, but maybe,” James started off nervously. His dark skin looked pale underneath the fairy lights of the restaurant.

“Absolutely fucking not. I’m not talking to you, _and certainly not to you_ , and Peter, I thought you were better than this and had stopped following those two like a lapdog years ago,” Remus snapped. His hands trembled outrageously.

“Remus, please,” Sirius asked, dropping any pretenses of confidence and lowering his voice to a soft entreaty.

“No, no, no. What did you think, Peter? Oh, Sirius and James are back in town, let’s have a pint like the good old days? Trick Remus into coming too? Are you that much of an idiot?”

“It wasn’t Peter’s idea,” Sirius interrupted Remus’s rant. “It was mine.”

“Oh,” Remus seethed, letting out a high-pitched spurt of false laughter that didn’t sound like it belonged to him at all, “even better. You don’t talk to me for three years –”

“ –you’re the one who doesn’t answer when I’ve call– ” Sirius interjected, but Remus bulldozed past his protestations.

“ –and you think we can just have a little chat as though nothing ever happened? Yeah? Fuck you. I’m leaving,” Remus said, and he spun on his heel. He avoided the waitress with her startled doe eyes and charged out onto the rainy sidewalk, swearing under his breath the whole time.

He heard the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk behind him. Remus thought Sirius would have sent James to make peace, surely, but the steps did not sound like James’s quick, eager footfalls. Rather, Sirius caught up to him with a slow walk that masked the running that he must have done inside the restaurant to catch up with Remus’s longer legs. Remus opened his umbrella but refused to move closer, keeping Sirius two feet away in the rain.

“What do you want from me, Black?”

Sirius smiled bitterly. “Are we on a last name basis now, Remus?”

“Yes. What do you want from me? I’m not here to listen to apologies.”

“Alright, Lupin,” Sirius said, sounding vaguely amused, “since you want to go by last names. I didn’t ask Peter to invite you to dinner tonight just so I could shout apologies at you over steak-frites, though I can do that.”

Remus hated him for pronouncing the word perfectly in French.

Sirius continued. “I asked you here because I’m running for Congressman.”

“I know.”

Sirius looked surprised. Remus felt satisfied catching him off-guard.

“How?”

“I saw your interview yesterday – I just caught it, don’t get excited, it wasn’t like I was looking for it – with Rita Skeeter. You were a trainwreck,” Remus added hastily, relishing the suddenly withdrawn look that had crept on Sirius’s face.

“I know I was,” Sirius said, sweeping his dark wet hair out of his face. “And I’m going to fix it. Because I don’t like to lose. And I don’t plan to.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Are you done, or are you finished, Black? Satisfied with your little _House of Cards_ speech? I have to get back home and the subway is under construction over the weekend.”

Sirius waved his hand around the air like he was brushing off Remus’s point entirely. “I’ll get my driver to take you.”

Remus scoffed. “You brought a –”

Sirius cracked a brilliant, though sopping wet, smile. “Well that got a rise out of you. No, I’ll hail you a taxi whenever you want.”

Then he became thoughtful, almost grave. 

“I know I fucked up, Remus, I fucked up real badly. But I’m asking, no I’m begging you, and I’ll get on my knees and ask you for this in the middle of the street.” For emphasis, he got on his knees, and winced as his fine tailored suit ended up in a particularly deep puddle. Remus started getting oddly warm as Sirius looked up at him.

“It’s too late for apologies, Black.”

“I’m not just here to apologize, though that too, I suppose. I’m here to ask you to work on my campaign.”

Remus staggered back, almost into the street, with surprise. Sirius stood up, caught him by the wrist, and pulled him back from the curb in one single, graceful motion.

“You…you said you were going to follow in the footsteps of your father. You cried over him. But your father was a terrible person. I’m not going to help you become a replica of him.” Remus said accusingly.

“That’s all bullshit and you know it. My father was a bastard and I’m glad he’s rotting,” Sirius said easily. “But I don’t know how to navigate all of this. James and I…we’re spinning our wheels. We need you. _I_ need you.”

Remus flushed – with pleasure, or with embarrassment, he had not yet determined.

“You worked for Lestrange, who is also a piece of shit.”

“My parents threatened to disown me if I didn’t. Looking back on it, I’m thinking disowning might have been better. At least they would have still had Reg.”

“Is that your excuse for everything? My parents are going to disown me? I think I’ve heard that one before, Black.”

Remus caught a genuine stitch of pain on Sirius’s face. After a moment, he scrubbed at his face and left a trail of rainwater on his cheeks.

“Lupin. Remus. Moony,” Sirius said softly, using the silly nickname that Remus had not heard in almost four years. “I know I’m a wreck and I’ve made lots of mistakes, and it’s going to be an uphill battle. But I guarantee I can pay you better than whatever you’re doing now and the work environment will be a lot better. Peter told me how awful your boss is, what a...well, anyways. Please, Remus, uh, or Lupin, if you prefer. I’ll call you whatever you want. Come be my speechwriter. I can’t let Malfoy take the seat, I’ll be damned. He’s worse than my father is. Was. I know how much you love history. I know how you devour those big, old, boring tomes and how you used to pretend you were living in the king’s court when you were a kid. I know how you savor political dramas because they give you hope that tomorrow will be better. You’re the best writer I know and can debate a sock out of its shoe. You’re absolutely brilliant. I’m not asking you to trust me as your…oh…um…your friend. I’m asking you to trust me as a potential political candidate. If I win, I’ll be the youngest Congressman in over a century and probably more. I know what history means to you. So you might as well try to make it.”

There was a pause, and a car whooshed close enough to Remus to make him step half a foot closer to Sirius. He was close enough that he could smell his expensive, spicy cologne and see the individual drops of rain collecting on his wool coat.

“History, huh?” Remus said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Later, when he told Lily about what had transpired, he had blamed the pouring rain, that damned car, the shitty week at work, Sirius’s gray eyes lighting up and his body so close to his and his smile disarming as ever, and the prospect of reliving their days at St. Godric’s with James and Peter even for a few months. But he knew (and so did Lily, though she was kind enough to keep her musings mostly to herself) that he had jumped headfirst into the snare that Sirius Black had set up for him and buttered himself up for the feast. And he’d do it again, a million times over, because he was still madly, stupidly in love despite his best intentions.

“Fuck it, why not. I’ll do it,” Remus said, sticking his hand out in the rain.

Sirius beamed up at him, and for a moment, the most brilliant star in the sky eclipsed the moon and drowned Remus’s world in light. 


	2. Chapter 2

After half a cigarette and three ridiculously expensive cocktails on an empty stomach (save for some appetizers that James had ordered for all of them after they moved from the French brasserie to a nearby and equally pricey bar), Remus was irritated to find that he was a little intoxicated and (perhaps more upsettingly) more than a little in love with Sirius Black.

If he had any logic remaining (the part of his brain that sounded suspiciously like Lily Evans), he would have asked Sirius if the taxicab offer still stood and headed home at least two hours ago. He could have ordered take-out or even taken his chances with the Thai food in the fridge. Yet here he was, in a bar where the tab was under Sirius’s name and his American Express card, having a one-on-one conversation with the man who had broken his heart not even four years beforehand.

The worst part, Remus thought with a mixture of annoyance and gratitude that flooded his bloodstream, was that they were completely alone. James and Peter were standing almost on the other side of the bar and had left the two of them to their own devices half an hour ago – Peter was trying hopelessly to flirt with a girl, and James was valiantly attempting to be his wingman. Remus had been rambling about the story of how he ended up working for the library.

“So anyways, that’s why I’ve been working for Dolores for the last couple of years. Kind of hard to find a job around here, so I can’t just leave like that. Though I guess I am,” Remus finished, sipping on the dregs of his third cocktail.

Sirius’s eyes were alight with amusement. “That mean old broad. She’s been leading that branch since I was a kid. She almost cussed out Regulus once because he decided to join some friends there and was whispering too loud. I can’t believe she had you working those absurd hours for a while, too.”

“Yeah, they were terrible. Thankfully, they tapered…wait,” Remus said suspiciously. “I didn’t tell you anything about my bad hours.”

Sirius had the courtesy to look embarrassed. “Oh, you didn’t?”

Remus shook his head decisively. 

“Oh. Um. I…may have been asking James and Peter to run reconnaissance.”

 _Of course_. Remus was annoyed and yet had a cheap thrill run through him as he realized that Sirius had been curious enough to follow up on him. Then, he swore at himself for being so easily delighted with the barest of minimums.

Remus kept his voice flat to the point of sounding wry. “I hate both of them. And also, you. I’m not forgiving and forgetting that easily.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Lupin.”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“And anyways, I’m still confused as to why you even want to do this,” Remus said with a wrinkled nose, cocking his head towards Sirius.

“Do what? Run for office?” Sirius asked with a roguish smile, wrapping his lips around a cigarette for a few puffs before stubbing it out. He grinned at the waitress who brought him another whiskey, neat and gave her a wink that made Remus weak even if it was not directed towards him.

Remus scoffed. “No shit. What else would we be talking about, Sirius? I mean Black.”

Skillfully, Sirius evaded the question, though it would take Remus the better part of a day to realize that he had done so.

“You’re my speechwriter, Remus, you tell _me_ why I want to run for office.”

Remus burst out laughing. “That’s not how this is supposed to work at all, Sirius. You’re supposed to have some sort of an idea, you’re not supposed to be a pretty face with no brain.”

“So you’re admitting that you think I have a pretty face?”

“Yes.”

Realizing his mistake, Remus became shy, and looked down at his glass, clinking the ice inside it against the frosted glass. Sirius tried quickly to make up for the awkward silence.

“Write something for me,” Sirius said, putting his chin on his hand. His eyes blazed as he watched Remus take a sip of water.

“Write what?” Remus asked, trying to steady the spinning room around him and settling only when he locked eyes with Sirius. He leaned backwards slightly against his chair and swiped his hair out of his eyes. He had needed a haircut for about a month now, and was annoyed that he had to keep blowing it out of his face.

“Something that’ll tell everyone in Godric’s Hollow why I’m going to run for office.” Sirius signaled to the waitress, who hurried over. She had clearly been paying attention to Sirius despite the darkness of the corner where they were huddled and his rather intense conversation with Remus. He shouted over the pounding music, “can I have paper and a pen?”

The waitress returned quickly with two sheets of copy paper and a pen, and Sirius gave her a grateful smile and a thanks.

“You want me to start writing…now? In a bar? I’m drunk. Aren’t you? Oh shit, maybe you aren’t,” Remus fretted.

“Listen, the special election is in April. We don’t really have time to beat around the bush here, Moony. We’re running on an expedited timeline.”

“You have two months to realize this dream and you’re wasting time here?”

Sirius smirked at him. “Time with you is hardly wasted.”

Remus sailed past that with some difficulty.

“Also, I don’t even work for you yet,” Remus said with a nervous laugh. “I still work for Dolores.”

“I’ll pay you for your time, don’t worry about the money.”

“I’m not worried about the money,” he argued back, pushing the sleeves of his gray sweater up past his elbows.

“Then what are you worried about?” Sirius asked, and his voice was so obscenely gentle that Remus for a split second felt rather than saw a flash of the man that he had fallen in love with, and then saw a palimpsest of Sirius as he was now as a twenty-five-year-old, haughty and unsure and pampered and traumatized from a childhood where he had been so profoundly unloved, and the person whose hand he had held in stolen moments, who had pushed him up against the bleachers after a soccer game to kiss him as if nothing else mattered, who had thrown out stupid answers to the crossword that Remus would do in bed on Sundays, and who had read him e.e. cummings because he thought that Remus, being a pretentious English major, would like it.

“I’m not worried about anything,” Remus replied hotly. He shook the images away with vehemence and snatched the pen out of Sirius’s hand.

At first, he was annoyed that Sirius would ask him to write on the spot, especially as he knew how difficult it could be for Remus to summon up the energy to put pen to paper rather than just exist in his own thoughts. But then he thought back to the stories that Sirius had told him – both the grand, sweeping ones that had made him sound both charming and obnoxious back in the dining hall, and the quiet, intimate ones that he had told Remus in moments when they were alone together. He remembered that Remus could write the story of Sirius Black’s life better than…well…maybe better than Sirius Black could. He started to write frantically. Remus was not sure whether minutes passed or hours passed, though based on the thumping beat that had not ended in the background, he guessed the former. He shoved the papers, which he had marked front and back, towards Sirius, and leaned next to him so that they could both read Remus’s words at the same time:

_I’ve always loved stories, and I like to think that I’m a pretty good storyteller. My father used to tell me and my brother Regulus that Godric’s Hollow was a place full of history, and that ours was as intertwined as the braid on a rope. He would point to the university that my great-great-great-grandfather helped found and say that we were responsible for the education of some of the most brilliant minds of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. And of course, then I attended St. Godric’s in the twenty-first century, though I’m not sure if I can claim to be one of the most brilliant minds that the university has produced. I’ll leave that to my brother, Regulus, who’s at Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar right now._

_There was no Black family without Godric’s Hollow, my father would say, and there was no Godric’s Hollow without the Blacks._

_I am here to tell you that my father was wrong about that. My father was wrong about a lot of things. It is true that my family would not have survived without the care and support of the people of Godric’s Hollow, but Godric’s Hollow could and would survive without us. Godric’s Hollow is made up of a brilliant patchwork of people that goes beyond the value of any one family. Godric’s Hollow has been a home for people like me, who have lived here almost their entire lives and grew up as one of its own, and for people like my friends, some who were outcasts in their own cities and found a home here, others who had the promise of brilliant careers elsewhere and chose to remain in this city._

_For a long time, the Black family has written the narrative. My family has lived here for so many generations, but I fear that so many of those family members that came before me and called Godric’s Hollow home were insular and elitist. My father was allegedly a public servant for many years but went out of his way to bring active harm to many of the most historically marginalized populations within Godric’s Hollow, to ensure that their stories were never passed along. And for that, I apologize. I strongly condemn most of the legislation that my father passed throughout his career._

_My name is Sirius Black, and while my story is intertwined with Godric’s Hollow, Godric’s Hollow does not begin and end with me. This place has shaped me and it has made me a better person. It is my hope that in running to be your next Congressmember, you will grant me the privilege of learning all of your stories so that one day, you too can tell the story of how living here has made your life better. I want your stories to be my stories too._

He was worried that his handwriting was illegible. Sirius read one sheet and then the next. Remus stayed staring at the second paper long after Sirius had flipped it to the second side and had (at least from Remus’s peripheral vision) finished scanning the page. Then, Sirius folded up the letter with crisp, even folds, and stuck it in the inside pocket of his blazer. Remus was not sure what to say – what was he thinking? Sirius had probably loathed the insinuation that he had to apologize for his father’s detestable politics. Finally, after several minutes, Remus glanced over at Sirius. He was expecting anger, perhaps, or confusion. What he was not expecting was Sirius clearly fighting back an onslaught of tears. His gray eyes were glassy, and he was biting down on his bottom lip so hard it looked as though he might draw blood.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what line you’re upset about but…but, I can try not to write it again,” Remus stammered out. He shoved a stack of bar napkins over at Sirius and tried to telepathically page James. No use, he swore, as Peter continued to flirt up a storm with a young woman and continued to drag James into his hormonal quagmire.

Sirius stared silently out the window. Remus fiddled anxiously with his napkins.

Finally, after what felt like an intolerable and interminable moment, Sirius at last turned back to Remus. “Moony,” he said softly, and for a moment, Remus could almost hear him reciting the end of the e.e. cummings poem, _you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars_ , and his heart was stuck in his throat. His peripheral vision dissolved into darkness.

“Do you know why I asked you to join my team?” Sirius continued softly.

“Because I’m a better writer than James or Peter?” Remus offered.

Sirius smiled sadly. “I mean, that too. But I asked you to join because…well, honestly, you’ve seen the very worst sides of me. I think I’m a terrible person,” he said flatly.

“I…” Remus started out.

“No, please, let me finish here. I took a gamble and I guessed right. Even though I have been…” And here, Sirius’s voice cracked something awful. “…Absolutely horrible to you, you who have been nothing but wonderful, nothing but kind, nothing but loving and gentle and everything else good to me, you are still willing to see me as a better person than I think I am. And when I was with you…and even now, being with you, you make me want to fight for something.”

“Oh really?” Remus said, with a sudden flush of anger that surprised him. “Then why is it that you didn’t want to fight for us? You’re the one who broke up with me a day after graduation, Sirius.”

“My father threatened to –”

“Yes, Sirius, I’ve heard. To disown you. And you would’ve been stuck with the rest of us, working a job that you don’t like with a boss you hate just to survive,” Remus said snappily.

“No,” Sirius said, and his face was pinched. “He threatened to ruin _you_.”

Remus jeered. “Your father had power, Sirius, but he wouldn’t have been able to ruin my job prospects everywhere – or at least, no more than I ruined them by becoming a fucking English major.”

“More than just your job, Remus,” Sirius said hopelessly.

Remus looked icily at him. “I’m not afraid of revealing who I am, Sirius.”

Sirius shook his head. “No. Remus. My father was a terrible person. I already regret saying _anything_ even remotely kind about him yesterday during that interview, and I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to balance this now. You have no idea what he is capable of. Was, capable of. You must think I’m terrible, or I’m exaggerating. But I was so scared that I did everything my father told me after I told him. I left you, I ran to D.C., I worked for that asshole Lestrange. By some miracle of the universe, I was able to keep James by my side. I’m not asking you to forgive me, Remus, though of course I'd be glad if you did.”

“You’re not a terrible person,” Remus offered lamely.

“I’m not the best. But I still think that I have something to offer to…myself? The world? I don’t know. And maybe I can’t give you a straight yes or no answer on why I decided to run for my father’s seat, but I know that I want to win this in a way that I’ve only ever wanted to one other thing my whole life.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that? Soccer captain, when you lost to James?” Remus tried to conjure a smirk, and succeeded somewhat.

To his surprise, Sirius was wildly, intoxicatingly earnest.

“No, Remus, you.”

The voice of reason sounded like Lily Evans in his head. _Do not do this, Remus. He will sleep with you, he will ruin your life again, and he will break your heart a second time. Do not, do not, do not engage with this. If he had wanted to, he would have said this years ago. Where was he when you were crying yourself to sleep every night? Where was he when you started hating your job? Do not do this._

Remus did not have time to respond. At long last, James Potter had broken free from a tangle of people at the bar and had returned to his friends with big, doelike eyes. He had shaken off his blazer jacket and was now merely in his corporate blue button-down shirt. He anxiously tipped his glasses to sit on top of his head and slid his hand over his face, wiping away a sheen of sweat that had gathered over the last hour.

“What happened, James? You look like the bar is on fire,” Sirius asked.

“There are two more competitors in the race,” James said, looking down at his cell phone and tapping out some information furiously.

“Besides Malfoy?” Sirius scrunched his face up. “But I thought that the information that you and I had managed to get said that no one else besides him was planning to run for the seat.”

“You guys looked at data?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Yeah there are people we recruited to work in research, basically interns,” James said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“So it’s not just Malfoy.”

“I guess there’s been a change of plans,” James frowned.

“Well, who’s running?” Sirius asked impatiently.

“Emmeline Vance and Charlie Weasley.”

Sirius stuck his tongue through this teeth in concentration. “Charlie Weasley, the animal rights activist guy? The one who ran when we were in college?”

James nodded. “The very one.”

“Who’s Emmeline Vance?”

“Not sure. I can get more information on that, but it’s looking like she’s a local businesswoman.” James continued to scroll through a seemingly endless message. “She really hates you, apparently.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sirius said, with a seemingly nonchalant yawn that betrayed a jumble of anxious energy that had built up inside of him.

“I think it’s time we close up our tabs and head home,” James said sagely. He flagged down the waitress, who quickly brought over the bill for Sirius to sign with his signature flair. He did not even look down at the bill, though he tipped exorbitantly. He handed Remus his jacket shyly and they walked in silence throughout the bar.

“Ok, Potter, give me the TLDR. What does this mean for us?” Sirius asked, as they scooped up a rather dejected Peter on the way out and headed out the door.

James was thoughtful for a moment. Unlike Remus, he seemed stone-cold sober and as though he could start running around a soccer pitch at any moment. “Well, originally, it was just you and Malfoy, right, so you could separate yourself from all of Malfoy's crooked style and try to at least court some more progressive voters, but still try to woo some of your father’s more centrist voters and donors.”

Peter frowned. “So should Sirius run as Malfoy's opposite?”

“Well that wouldn’t work either,” James replied dismissively. “Most of the left-leaning voters in Godric’s Hollow hate him because they associate him with his father. And the fact that he spent the last few years working for Lestrange. Anyways, Godric’s Hollow leans more conservative, and especially more towards the Orion Black flank. That’s how Sirius’s father was able to stay in power for like thirty years, the sheer numbers were overwhelming. All of the other tickets keep losing – St. Godric’s students are pretty liberal, yeah, but the school is too small to really make a dent in voting, especially since most of them vote outside of the district anyways.”

“So what do we do?” Peter demanded.

“Alright,” James said kindly, as though he were explaining mathematics to a small child. He was breathless as he walked quickly, with purpose. “There's a lot of variation and difference among the groups, but let's boil it down to the most basic. Imagine there are a hundred people who live and actively vote in Godric’s Hollow. Of those, around fifty-five tend to vote conservative, most of them aligned with Sirius's father's views – which is a pretty high number, but that’s gerrymandering for you. Maybe twenty-five are bona fide progressives with hatred for the entire Black family tree, most being students, university affiliates, and young professionals. And about twenty are sort of in the middle, more like independents who have expressed a willingness to vote for anyone or even push candidates of their own forward.”

“Are we centrists now? I mean for the campaign purposes.” Peter clarified, sounding confused.

“Well, that sort of depends on where Emmeline falls and how broad she’s willing to go. She could end up picking up a lot of independent and undecided voters, but there are no real numbers as to how big that population actually is,” James said. “And of course, there’s a question of your father’s less fervent donors and how strong that loyalty is to the Black family name.”

“Well what if I don’t want them to be loyal to me just because of my family name?” Sirius asked, and there was real heat behind his words.

James peered at him over the top of his glasses. “Then in that case, you can count out the more traditionalist and conservative types who would have voted for your father, since Malfoy will sweep many of them, forget the progressives because they’ll still hate you and will vote for Weasley again, and probably forget the centrists since Emmeline will sweep them up and they’d most likely rather vote for an established businesswoman and lifelong citizen of Godric’s Hollow. And Malfoy ends up taking your father’s seat. Even if Vance drops and Weasley can take all the centrists too, he’d still end up being short. Sirius, if you want to win, your best shot is trying to split the Orion conservative flank as much as you can, more than halfway if possible, and then trying to get whoever else you can onboard.”

“I don’t understand,” Peter whined.

Remus was inclined to agree, as his own headache was growing worse and worse as James continued to speak.

“Alright, Jamie, lay it on us. So what's the story,” Sirius said, and his eyes looked more sunken and more tired than they had looked the entire time that he had spoken to Remus.

“The central story is that we’re kind of fucked.”

James said seriously.

Sirius nodded, and the group crossed another round of streetlights with purpose. “I have another question.”

“Shoot,” James sighed out, looking around to make sure that there were no cars nearby before striding forward. “Be my guest, Black.”

“Where the devil are we walking to right now?”

The four of them looked around. All of them had been walking briskly for fifteen minutes, each of them thinking that the other had a route mapped out. Then Remus started to laugh, an uncontrollable and ugly guffaw that made tears run out onto his mouth. Then Sirius started to laugh, then James, and finally Peter.

A spectator, crossing the street in front of them, would have seen nothing more intriguing or consequential than four good-looking young men having a raucous time after one too many beers at that new bar on Ivy Street. They would have marveled at the recklessness of youth, and the carefree pleasures of friendship. Perhaps they even would have been jealous for that present moment, where four friends lived in a world far apart from everyone else’s – a world all their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter will spend some time with Marlene, Mary, and Lily! Thanks to everyone who has read so far :)


	3. Chapter 3

“So let me get this straight, Remus, humor me here,” Marlene hollered, topping off her glass with red wine until it threatened to overflow. She took a big gulp off the top and shook her head. Then, she turned to Mary sharply. “Wow, this is really terrible. Mary, where the hell did you get this wine?”

“My boss gave it to me,” Mary objected with a frown. “It’s not terrible, Marlene, quit being so dramatic about it.”

“It’s very dry,” Lily said plainly, wrinkling her face a little.

Mary fumed. Remus could almost see the patches of heat cropping up on her round, normally pleasant face. “Well, Rupert says that when he went to Barcelona last year, they drank _loads_ of this stuff. Maybe you’re just not cultured enough for it.”

Marlene laughed throatily. “Mary Macdonald, you dope. You’re just defending this shitty wine because you’re in love with your boss.”

Mary put her glass down precariously on Remus and Lily’s wooden coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest, uncrossing them briefly to make sure that the cup would not suddenly tip over. The table was not quite even – Marlene had tried to help Remus and Lily after they had plucked the table out of a thrift store basement a few years ago, but her sanding had been a little overeager. She kept offering to fix it now that she was considerably more improved as a woodworker, but Lily had been the first to decline. The hills and valleys of their table gave the apartment a character that it otherwise lacked, she claimed. Remus privately thought that the apartment was already crammed with character and could afford to have a bit of it stripped away, but didn’t think it was worth disagreeing with Lily.

“I am _not_ in love with Rupert,” Mary cried.

“Then why do you keep wearing those ridiculous outfits to work?” Marlene demanded. The two of them had been roommates since graduation, with Mary heading off to work every day downtown as a graphic designer and Marlene heading back to St. Godric’s as a graduate student in sociology the semester after undergrad ended.

Mary wriggled on the leather recliner where she was sitting, clearly resenting being in the hot seat. She tugged at one of the thick, black braids that made up her ponytail and pretended to examine the ends. “I have done no such thing.”

Marlene turned to Lily and Remus – Lily was sitting on the couch next to her, and Remus was cross-legged on the floor with his half-hearted insistence at gallantry – with a sardonic smile. Her light blue eyes dazzled even in the dim, sallow yellow light of the living room.

Marlene charged forward without hesitation. “Mary wears these mini-skirts and tight sweaters every day to the office. It’s _February_ , for crying out loud. February! She’s been wearing these little get-ups the whole winter. She’s out of her damned mind and thinks she’s going to end up sleeping with her boss, who, by the way is incredibly ugly. Mary is wildly out of his league so I have no idea what she’s trying to do here.”

Remus had seen only one picture of Rupert in the past and was moderately inclined to agree with Marlene on the latter point. Not that he was ugly – he understood the appeal of his full, salt-and-pepper-flecked black hair, and his boyish good looks. No, Rupert was rather good-looking, but Mary was absolutely beautiful. She had been one of the most – if not the most – gorgeous girls at St. Godric’s. She and Sirius had dated briefly when they were freshmen, a poor decision that both of them laughed at now. Or at least, they had been able to laugh at it at the end of senior year, the last time that they had spoken. Even Remus could not blame Sirius for being captivated by her; he recognized how stunning Mary was. Even on a casual girls’ (and Remus) night in when they were all wearing sweats, she outshone all of them.

“Can we please move on?” Mary said, more than a little embarrassed. Sometimes, being friends with Marlene McKinnon was rather like being in front of a firing squad that only shot confetti. Even if she was incredibly supportive and the life of the party, you were always left wondering if the next shot might be a bullet straight through your heart. “Weren’t you on a rant about Remus? Sorry, Remus,” she said quickly, as Remus’s light brown eyes narrowed.

“Oh yes, _speaking_ of people who are in love with their bosses…” Marlene began wickedly.

“He’s not my boss,” Remus murmured, scrubbing at his face with his hands and picking at the bottom of his crimson St. Godric’s sweatshirt. It was a little longer in the torso than he normally liked, but he had had the sweater for so long that it fit like a second skin. He wondered if this might be a moment to pretend that Dolores had called him in for some pitiable book-related emergency, and then he could disappear into the night to avoid the scrutiny of Marlene’s line of questioning. No wonder she was infatuated with Dorcas Meadowes, the television host that Remus also favored. Marlene’s ideal career was probably grilling people for money.

“Oh, he’s not? Then what is S.O.B., Lupin?” Marlene fired at him.

“We don’t have to call him by his initials anymore,” Remus objected, looking down at the stray patches of carpet that stuck up like weeds.

The women exchanged a look that Remus did not miss and yet could not understand. Though Remus had been privy to their joys, their heartaches, their fun, and their friendship over the last few years, there were some conversations that he would never quite comprehend. With a single glance, they could tell an entire story beginning to end. It would take Remus many more years to reach that level of intimacy with them.

“Re,” Lily said, as gently as though she were approaching a kitten, “The guy broke your heart. And the fact that Peter sold you out and brought you guys together doesn’t change that.”

“Which is really fucked up, by the way,” Marlene added. “I never trusted Pettigrew farther than I could throw him. Which is probably quite a bit, honestly, I think I’m like a head taller than him.”

“Peter’s my friend,” Remus replied half-heartedly.

“Alright, he’s your friend. So let’s get this straight,” Marlene said decisively. She never knew how to leave well enough alone, Remus thought miserably. “Peter, who knows that S.O.B. dumped you literally the day after we graduated, had the grand idea of bringing you together, per Black’s stupid idea, to work for him.”

“With him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Remus, were you suddenly the one running for office? Because otherwise, you are working _for_ him.”

“Marlene,” Lily snapped, flashing her a warning look. Marlene gently closed her mouth, somewhat chastened. Mary raised her eyebrows at Marlene.

Remus took a deep breath that pricked at the sides of his lungs. “I know it’s absolutely stupid, I really do. He just needs my help and…I mean…it’s not like I’m dating him again, it’s a professional setting. I hate my job and my boss, and at least I’d have a chance of writing again and having some sort of a real impact.”

“And so you had your little talk over some cocktails, and it was a miracle that you didn’t end up in bed together based on your description of it,” Marlene said flatly.

Remus flushed. “Well I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that, necessarily.”

“So how would you put it?”

“We had a very serious – no pun intended – conversation about what his message should be now that he’s running. I like the idea of being involved in making history. He’d be the youngest Congressman in over a century.” He felt like he was parroting the same points that Sirius had made to him yesterday, with considerably less zeal and skill.

Lily looked at Remus with some skepticism. “But Re, I told you yesterday. It’s not like S.O.B…um…Black is planning to run for office on a progressive ticket. Or at least, I’m guessing he’s not if he wants to keep trying to get his father’s voters to support him too.”

Lily, much like James (and Remus, though he was perhaps more willing to ignore that unfortunate reality), knew the truth, which was that Godric’s Hollow was a historically wealthy town, full of silent voters who may have opposed Congressman Black’s tirades out loud but voted for him on Election Day. Most importantly, they voted for him with his pockets. If Sirius wanted to win, he would have to replicate the coffers of cash that Orion was able to wrangle up through visits to his powerful friends, whose families were part of the original twenty-eight families that had settled Godric’s Hollow hundreds of years ago. _The Sacred Twenty-Eight_ , Remus remembered, hearing Sirius’s light, airy laugh in his ear.

“Anyways, I saw Charlie Weasley is running again, and he’ll take all of those votes. Or Emmeline Vance, I heard she was running too.”

Remus resisted a laugh. She sounded so much like James in her evaluation of the field – a comparison she would resent, no doubt.

Mary’s eyes glazed over. “Ugh. Charlie Weasley. What a babe.”

“Honestly, I should start spritzing you with a water bottle, MacDonald,” Marlene said, throwing a pillow over at Mary. Mary caught it easily and stuck her tongue out.

“Isn’t Lucius Malfoy running against him too?” Mary asked, scrolling on her cell phone to confirm her initial thoughts. “Ah, knew it. He’s the worst. I remember when he came to a donor’s dinner and literally asked me to my face if I thought I was an affirmative action admit.”

“I can confirm, I was at this dinner,” Lily said, sounding irritated at the memory. “What a prick.”

“So, since Malfoy is the absolute worst, isn’t it better that I help Sirius win, so that we don’t get stuck with the worst member of the St. Godric’s Board of Governors as a representative in Congress?” Remus asked timidly.

His three friends looked at one another, carrying on yet another conversation that Remus would not be able to decipher despite his best intentions.

“I guess it sort of depends,” Lily said, weighing her words carefully. “Is Black going to run on his father’s ticket and try to get all of his former supporters by making promises that his father would have made? Because in that case, I don’t see a difference between the two of them.”

“Was his father really that terrible? Like more than your average anti-progress Congressman?” Mary asked curiously. A New Yorker through and through, she had kept her voting registration back home and had never paid too much mind to the political landscape of Godric’s Hollow.

Lily gave Remus a fleeting look of – no, there was no denying it – pity. She unpinned and re-pinned her dark red hair in a bun at the crown of her head. “Yeah. I mean, he was a bigot. He was one of the chief opponents of marriage equality and tried to pass awful homophobic legislation – some of which actually made it through Congress, unfortunately.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Mary said.

“He was a son of a bitch,” Remus added, remembering the look of revulsion on Orion’s face when he had realized that his son and Remus were _something_ , even if he could not quite be sure of what they were.

“So then,” Mary said, pouring herself another glass of wine, “what does Sirius expect to run on? I can’t imagine…well, with his history…with Remus…that he could…um…in good faith…follow what his father believed.” There was a pause, as Mary looked at all of them with a confused, pleading expression. “Right?”

There was another long, extended moment of awkward silence among the friends.

Remus felt a surge of irritation rise up within him. “What do you expect me – I mean him – to do, then?”

“Well, he should get a backbone.” Marlene said firmly. Lily nodded enthusiastically. “Figure out why he’s actually running, if not just to appease his ego and the stupid family legacy that he claims he wants to keep alive. And run on that.”

Marlene was right, Remus reflected ruefully. He had not questioned why Sirius even wanted to be a Congressmember, and instead had made him write it. His impromptu speech hadn’t been half bad, but Remus had written it. To date, he still had no idea what propelled Sirius forward besides keeping Malfoy out of his father’s seat and getting his fifteen minutes of fame by breaking a record. Once again, Remus cursed himself for being so foolish as to agree to take on this endeavor. He had a sudden thought – what if he told Sirius that he actually didn’t mean it and wanted to take it all back? Remus hadn’t taken the step of contacting Dolores, after all. He could tell Peter (the rat, he thought with a good deal of annoyance) to tell Sirius that he wished him the best (or some semblance of that) but that he would be unable to join him in his quest for public office. Maybe Sirius would beg and plead or make some dramatic gesture to get him to remain a part of his team, but Remus would keep his distance coolly over the phone and remind him that he was not in any way required to help.

Just as Remus was starting to put the phrases in place in his head, their doorbell rang. Lily looked puzzled – Alice and Frank were away on their honeymoon in Napa Valley, and they didn’t have many friends who were on the level of showing up unexpectedly.

Mary hurried to the window – one of the advantages of living on the first floor was spying on whoever rang the doorbell, Remus thought– and gasped, clutching her glass of red wine close to her heart.

“I don’t believe it! It’s Sirius and James!” She pulled back the curtains and looked again. “Oh, and Peter.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Remus groaned. He was irritated that his first instinct had not been to tell them off, but rather, to regret that it would seem rather obvious if he headed to his bedroom to comb his hair and change out of his sweatshirt.

“ _What_?” Lily shouted, jumping up from her spot on the couch next to Marlene with a startled look. “What the hell are they doing here?”

Marlene grinned maniacally. “Should I open the door for them? Or should we make them deal with February weather a bit longer?”

The four of them stared at one another and tried to absorb this recent change in developments: Lily, with a perplexed, vaguely annoyed look; Remus with a despairing and uneasy expression pulled across his face; Marlene looking as though her dreams had come true; and Mary looking mildly drunk and game.

Marlene did not wait for confirmation any longer. She headed to their door, Remus chasing after her, and threw it open, releasing a gust of frigid air into the apartment. The radiator closest to the door seemed to scream in protest. Remus reached the door a second after Marlene did. Mary had not erred in her assessment – it was the three of them. James was looking uncertain and bashful in a large down jacket. Peter was wearing the exact same coat as James and looked as though he would have rather jumped in a sewer and spent the rest of his days underground than be on the threshold of Remus and Lily’s apartment, a place where he had been fewer than three times in as many years. Sirius was wearing his charcoal gray wool coat from yesterday, and seemed to be brimming with nerves.

“Oh, thank God. Remus, hi.” Remus could not tell whether he was genuinely relieved to see him or whether that was an affect. Either way, his heart rate soared.

“Hi, Black,” Remus responded briskly, with a diligent effort at maintaining a flat expression.

Sirius seemed to remember himself and slouched back into his normal tone and posture. “McKinnon, is that you?” He asked with an amused tone. “You look taller than ever.”

“Forget the pleasantries,” Marlene snapped with her no-nonsense Midwestern accent. “What are you doing here?”

James looked at both of them apologetically. “Hi, Marlene, hey Remus, I’m sorry about this, I really am. I tried to tell Sirius that we should call before we came, or at the very least show up when it’s not ten o’clock, but you know how Sirius gets –”

Lily came to join Marlene and Remus at the entrance to the apartment. She had let down her waist-length red hair and was carrying a glass of chardonnay with a slightly imperious expression on her face.

“Lily!” James said enthusiastically, and his face lit up with a glow that seemed to radiate from a place deep inside of him. “It’s so nice to see you again! How have you been? You look spectacular and really beautiful. Also intelligent, you look extremely intelligent. I heard you’re at a law firm now.”

“Hello, Potter,” Lily said with a small smirk. “Nice of you to show up, completely unexpectedly and uncalled for. How’d you hear about my job?”

James looked guiltily at Peter. Peter flushed, a crimson that reached up to his temples and up into his scalp. Remus stored this away – he really could not tell his friend more than one or two things anymore.

“Can we come inside?” Sirius asked abruptly, interrupting the sorry looks that James kept shooting Lily. Lily kept giving him a face that was annoyed and yet not completely devoid of interest.

Remus was brought back sharply to their freshman year, when James had first met Lily and announced to their suite that this woman would one day become Mrs. Potter. The two of them had gotten no further than a few drunken hook-ups during their junior and senior years. Lily had refused to date James, and thought that his role as soccer captain had made him arrogant and unnecessarily popular. Remus had tried to intervene in their senior fall as to the worthiness of James’s friendship – he had never hesitated to pay for Remus’s schoolbooks, or dinners out with them, or even a spring break trip to London that Remus otherwise would have missed out on – but Lily declined to consider any of these examples of his humility of character. When James had gone off to Capitol Hill at Sirius’s side, effectively choosing Sirius over Remus, Lily had felt incredibly justified in her stubbornness and unwillingness to give James Potter a chance. Still, as she once told Remus after too many tequila shots, he was pretty good-looking. And he…well, Remus had tried to tune the last part of her drunken speech out of his mind. There was only so much closeness with James that he could handle.

Marlene turned to Remus and Lily. “People who live here: can these dumbasses come in?” She addressed both of them in theory, but all of them knew that the decision truly rested with Remus. He gave a short, curt nod, and Sirius gave him a dazzling smile.   
“But take your shoes off. You’re not going to ruin this carpet more than it already is,” Lily ordered, and returned to the living room to sit with Mary.

“Did McKinnon move in with you all, or are we just blessed enough to cross her path?” Sirius asked wryly, sitting on a bench in their front hall so that he could untie his shining oxford shoes.

“It’s a girls’ night,” Remus said with a twitch of his eyebrow. “Girls, including me.”

“Lucky you,” Peter said enviously, “getting to spend time with so many of these girls. I’d do anything to switch places with you. I feel like you’re not even making the most out of your position, Remus. I mean, I guess not that you could.”

James gave Peter a sudden hard look. It was so rare to see James get truly irritated that even Remus felt the heat of his glare from a foot away. “Don’t be stupid, Pettigrew.”

“No offense, Remus.” Peter said meekly.

“None taken, Peter,” Remus replied lightly, because what else could he possibly have said?

Sirius stood up from the wooden bench and took in the sights in front of him. Remus tried to look at the apartment through his eyes – the chipping beige paint in the front hall, the clanging radiator, the uneven gray carpet and jagged wooden coffee table and small television in the living room, the miniature kitchen attached to it, the narrow hallway that led to their shared bathroom (Lily’s sweet-smelling shampoos and soaps taking up almost all of the space, not that Remus ever minded), and their two bedrooms, whose doors faced each other. Remus mentally tallied how many square feet it was smaller than the apartment that Sirius’s parents had bought him in college despite the fact that he insisted in living in the dormitories with his friends (five hundred, at least, though he was not one for math).

Sirius gave him a toothy smile. “I like it. It feels homey in here.”

There were moments like that, when Sirius broke free from the haughty, rich boy attitude that he had mastered over the years, and was so _genuine_ , that Remus wanted to fall headlong into his arms and kiss him until they no longer knew who was who. He had been lucky to experience Sirius in quiet, more intimate moments in their college dorm room, when he was brutally honest about his childhood, or skeptical about his path in life, or rethinking the values that he had once held dear. But those days were over, Remus reminded himself sternly, and he was only making things worse for himself if he believed for a moment that Sirius wanted anything other than a speechwriter. Or at the very most, a friend.

“Well, it’s what we can afford, and so it’s fine for me and Lily, even if we’re not living like princes,” Remus replied tightly. Sirius’s smile faded somewhat as they traipsed into the living room.

Mary greeted the boys cheerfully and offered them all drinks, which they accepted gratefully. Lily eyed all of them as they clambered over the furniture in their room and sat awkwardly against the walls and television stand. Peter looked petrified. James looked determined to be as agreeable and flexible as possible. Sirius kept staring at the pictures and knick-knacks around the room.

“Is anyone here planning to answer the question of what brought you here in the first place?” Lily asked. Her voice was low but deadly.

“I came here on a professional visit. Obviously, to visit my brand new speechwriter,” Sirius blurted out in a mad rush to speak. He turned to look at Remus with light gray eyes that looked like a storm rolling in, and something within Remus burst into shards of light.

“Okay, can everyone drop the bullshit?” Marlene asked, giving him a scathing look. The tense atmosphere, which until then had been held together with a delicate, invisible string, shattered.

“Black, you have another thing coming if you think you can just call Remus out of nowhere or have your little gofer do it for you and invite him onto your dumbass campaign that you have no chance at winning or will win at the expense of betraying almost every person in this room. I don’t know if you’ve been dead for the last three years or just pretending that you’ve been dead to work for that soulless asshole, Lestrange, but we’ve all been here trying to comfort Remus after you absolutely _shattered_ his heart after graduation, and you really think that we’re all just going to laugh along with you and pretend like nothing ever happened?”

While he could not deny the fact that Marlene was rather more on the money than he would have liked, he was conscious of Sirius’s dark flush creeping down his neck and the overall gloomy mood in the room. He could not bring himself to make eye contact with anyone except for Lily. He met her dark green eyes with a pleading expression. Lily cleared her throat and took a stab at interrupting Marlene’s flow.

“Um, right, Marlene. Look. We want what’s best for Remus because we love him, and I just don’t know whether this is the sort of way that you want to start off a professional working relationship with him. You could have emailed him, Potter. It’s late on a Saturday.”

James looked woeful after being called out by Lily. “We did, a few hours ago. But when we didn’t get an answer, Sirius thought it would just be easier to stop by.”

Remus blanched. He had left his phone in his room almost the entire day as he attempted to avoid searching Sirius online obsessively, as he had done for months after their break-up.

“I’m truly sorry,” Sirius said, with a small voice that sounded out of place. “I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why?” Remus pressed keenly.

“Can we…can we talk about this in private?” Sirius asked, ignoring everyone’s expectant faces.

Remus nodded and jerked his head in the direction of the hallway leading to his room. He tried to avoid Marlene’s meaningful look.

“Potter, don’t just sit there, put some records on.” Lily handed him one of her Fleetwood Mac vinyls and poked him to play the Victrola that Remus had picked up in his senior year of college. The music began playing softly in the background as people began chattering, and Remus was grateful as ever that Lily Evans continued to be the queen of tact.

Remus led Sirius down the hallway and opened the door to his quiet, dark bedroom. Everything was either beige or white or brown, with the exception of the large St. Godric’s pennant that still hung up above his bed and which matched his sweatshirt. He could not bear to get rid of it, foolish as it was. He flicked the light on and the umbrella of yellow light fell on Sirius’s normally beautiful face. It appeared jaundiced in the glow.

“So what is it?” Remus asked, attempting and failing to sound casual.

Sirius ran his fingers through his black hair – cut to the jaw, rather than to the collarbone, as it had been when they were at school – and twisted it several times before letting go. He sat on the edge of Remus’s bed without seeming to think about it, and Remus leaned against his closet and hoped against hope that he would not slide with the closet doors and trip over himself in his own bedroom.

“My mother called me this afternoon,” he said finally. He sounded exhausted.

“Oh.” Remus said, blinking. Walburga Black spent most of her time at her family’s estate in Newport, Rhode Island, some of her time in D.C. with her fellow political wives, and only a sliver of her year in the place that her husband had presumably represented. While Orion had appeared as the eternal bogeyman in most of Sirius’s conversations about his parents, Walburga had been a silent but dictating figure in the back, an _éminence grise_. His mother had been the one to discipline Sirius in brutal, cunning ways during his youth, and was characteristically sharp and critical in her language towards her elder son, when she deigned to speak to him. Regulus was her beloved, and Walburga had made it perfectly clear to Sirius that she thought he was a poor excuse of an elder son. “Why?”

“Well, she wanted to talk to me about running for office,” Sirius laughed in a strange, high-pitched way. His gray eyes were grave. “She told me to avoid disgracing the family name, though knowing me, I had probably done it already. But she wanted to offer me what she called a gift.”

Remus eyed him warily. “What kind of a gift?”

Sirius breathed deeply. “She wants me to meet with some of my father’s most… _ardent_ supporters next Monday night.”

“Okay…can you just tell her that you’re busy?”

“She already set up the dinner,” Sirius said sourly. His bottom lip stuck out childishly. “It’s at the Oak Club at eight.”

Remus knew of the Oak Club by name, as several of his professors had been members of the exclusive dinner club in the middle of downtown. He ran his hand through his hair and let it fall back at least somewhat into place. “Did she tell you what the point of this was?”

“She wants me to convince them, essentially, that I’m a show pony worth betting on.”

“Well,” Remus offered, “that’s sort of how elections tend to go. We’re trying to convince all of Godric’s Hollow that you’re a show pony worth betting on.”

“Do you think that’s really what this is?”

“Do you disagree?” Remus shot back.

“No, but what if I’m not worth betting on?” Sirius asked helplessly.

Remus angled his head down to look at Sirius. He looked aghast and pale, like someone had taken a photograph and washed him out.

“I’d still bet on you every time, Black.”

The two of them locked eyes, gray on brown, until a burst of laughter gave way from the living room. It sounded like Lily’s full-fledged snort. The two broke away from looking at each other.

Sirius stood up and Remus’s full-sized bed creaked. He walked to the window and stared out at the neighbors’ backyard. “I might fuck this up just like I messed up the Rita Skeeter episode.”

“Well, look on the bright side. You can’t fuck up that badly again. It was pretty bad watching you crash and burn from the T.V.”

Instead of being cheered by Remus’s wry humor, Sirius looked even more crestfallen.

Remus tried again.

“Are these even people you _want_ to support you?”

“I mean I want their money, so yes? But also they’re all assholes, so no? I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing here. This is already a disaster.” He tapped on the windowpane with his broad knuckles. “Come with me.”

Remus barked out a laugh. “Are you serious? You might be a member, but I certainly am not.”

Sirius cocked his head towards Remus. His mouth turned up at long last in a smile. “I get a plus one. And you could be mine.”

“I thought you’d want James to be yours.”

Sirius paused, then shook his head severely. “I need you.”

 _He needs you to be his speechwriter and talk him out of something stupid at this dinner, dumbass, don’t get excited_ , Remus thought, but could not keep his heart from skipping around madly. 

“What if I have plans?” Remus asked cheekily.

Sirius looked deflated. He returned to sit on the edge of Remus’s crisp white sheets. “Oh. Yeah I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry. Then I guess I can bring James…”

“I’m kidding,” Remus said quickly, “I’ll come with you. Someone needs to be your better half.”

Sirius looked up from where he had been staring at the hardwood floor underneath him. He arched a dark, angled eyebrow. Remus turned hot as he realized his slip.

“I mean like, your, um, yeah I’ll be there. Eight o’clock. I don’t have anything to wear, so hope that I won’t get kicked out at the door,” Remus said with a nervous laugh.

Sirius stood up. He gave him a once-over and then searched him up and down once more for good measure. Remus resisted the urge to fidget.

“I’ll have something nice sent over for you this week. Though you could show up in that sweatshirt and it’d probably get you in anyways,” Sirius grinned crookedly. “Especially seeing as it used to be mine."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe!! Thank you so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, etc. I really appreciate it.
> 
> CW for this chapter: homophobia

“This feels ridiculous, and I _know_ that I look ridiculous,” Remus said, staring up at his pockmarked ceiling, as Lily looked down at the YouTube tutorial on how to tie a bowtie and then back up at him. She was poking her tongue out through her teeth with a look of intense, furious concentration. She yanked at the black bowtie that she had begun looping together again, but the two strings became tangled once more. She let out a shrill shout of frustration.

“Would you _please_ stop moving? Also, what sort of stupid club has a black tie dress code just for dinner?” Lily asked bitterly. She stopped for a moment to look at her tiny phone screen and then back at Remus’s neck. The man with a beautiful pompadour who was explaining how to knot the bowtie seemed to have two extra fingers, the way that he managed to figure it out so easily in the video. “And _why_ would Sirius send you a bowtie instead of just a regular tie? I mean, I guess it fits in with the dress code, but it feels pompous.”

“He probably just likes to watch me sweat,” Remus said wryly, “seeing as I can’t recall ever having worn these once in my entire life and he was practically born with one attached at the neck. But in his defense, I don’t know how to tie a regular tie either, so we probably would have been in this position even if he had sent one over.”

Lily took a step back to sit on Remus’s white bedspread and wiped at her brow with the sleeve of her gray, heather crewneck sweater. “Well if that were the case, we would’ve just called Marlene. I think she knows how to tie an actual tie.”

Remus glanced at the simple, black alarm clock on his mahogany nightstand. The red numbers stuck out vividly against the relative darkness of the corner. “Shit. Lily, Sirius is supposed to be here in five minutes.”

“Relax, Re,” Lily said, jabbing his side, “Sirius hasn’t shown up to an event on time since he was born. Even then, he was probably a week late for dramatic emphasis.”

“Still. What if I just go without the bowtie?” Remus asked helplessly, taking the offending piece of fabric out of Lily’s hands. “How do I look?”

Lily scrutinized his immaculate black suit, shining black patent oxfords, and crisp white shirt – all of which had been delivered on Friday afternoon by one of the Black family’s discreet assistants, and all, judging by the price tags that Remus had cut off the sleeves and pantlegs with some modicum of panic, worth more than a month’s rent. In his elegant, expensive suit, he stood out starkly against the modest decorations of his bedroom.

Though he felt preposterous, Remus desperately wanted the evening to go perfectly – they could use a victory, after all. The last week had rushed by them and had not been particularly helpful to the campaign. After realizing that the special election date had been set for the last week of April and that they had just under two months to work some sort of magic, James, Peter, and Remus had set to work crafting a messaging strategy that was as ambiguous as Sirius wanted. Their policy platforms – ensuring housing for all, improving educational outcomes in Godric’s Hollow, and a moderately progressive economic policy – steered clear of the issue that Congressman Black had been famous for spewing, at Sirius’s request. Sirius had had two radio interviews and one television interview earlier that week with politically neutral hosts, had practiced being confident about being in political issue limbo with the sentences and catchphrases that Remus had written for him, had ardently refuted the idea that he was his father’s carbon copy, and had been reticent and tight-lipped whenever anyone raised the issue of his father’s legislation, resorting to a hasty _no comment_ during the television interview. James had gotten mad after the last interview, and then Sirius had pulled him into a spare office to shout words that Remus could just barely make out, and when they had both left the room, they seemed mildly chastened and embarrassed.

After that conversation, James had hired a social media intern to do _something_ to make them seem appealing to the younger vote. Advertising in general had seemed like a good idea. Charlie Weasley had gone viral in a dozen states, and Malfoy was rumored to have built up a campaign fund worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in just two and a half weeks from his radio campaigns. Emmeline Vance had been fairly quiet but had soft-launched a number of television advertisements. Needless to say, James had felt the pressure hard. He had stressed the importance of this dinner to Remus and Sirius, swearing like a sailor until they both had sheepishly agreed to put their best feet forward.

“How do you look? Like you were born in a gilded cage with a silver spoon in your mouth,” Lily said wryly. She took the bowtie fabric out of his hands and placed it on top of his desk.

“Oh great. I’ll fit right in with the rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, then. Until I have to figure out what fork to use and then they’ll know I’m a scammer.”

“It’s not hopeless,” Lily argued, tilting her head up to squint at Remus again in the yellowish light of his room. “Just pretend that you’re talking to Professor Slughorn.”

The two of them shared an eye roll. Remus, an English major, and Lily, a history and political science double major, had taken a class together on the literature and politics of the Ancient Roman Empire with Professor Slughorn, who was an erudite Classics scholar and one of the most pretentious individuals Remus had ever encountered. Attending his office hours meant exposing yourself to a slew of stories about all the rich and famous students he had taught before. If Remus never heard someone quote _The Aeneid_ in Latin in a casual conversation again, it would be too soon.

“I can’t believe he sent you shoes,” Lily said idly, as Remus kneeled down to knot one of them again. The black laces were thick and expensive-feeling. “How did he even know your size?”

“It’s the same as James’s,” Remus said offhandedly, and noted the look of suspicion on Lily’s face as he stood back up. “What? It’s true. James lent me shoes sometimes for formals. Why would I have any of those stupid-looking dress shoes, anyways?”

“I guess you’re right,” Lily said, looking him up and down once more. “Seeing as you have a band of marauding idiots to send you shoes whenever the occasion strikes. Are any of these items loans, or are you going to keep them forever?”

“Oh shit,” Remus said. He hadn’t even bothered to think that he might have to return them. He rummaged through the waste basket underneath his desk and sought out the tags that he had snipped off. “I didn’t even think about that.”

Lily frowned. “I sort of doubt that Sirius would lend you anything and make your return it, now that I’m thinking about it. He probably sent off one of his family butlers off with his AmEx like, _go, buy the most expensive things on the rack just for the hell of it, don’t even bother with the receipts because I’ve got to impress my ex-boyfriend_.” She raised her voice to imitate Sirius’s vaguely bored, aristocratic tone of voice.

“He’s not trying to impress me!” Remus exclaimed, nervously rolling a lint roller around his shoulders and once again finding that he had nothing there. “He’s probably just worried that everyone would be able to tell that I certainly don’t belong there.”

“Oh yeah?” Lily arched an eyebrow. “He was an absolute wreck when he came over last weekend. Couldn’t stop looking at you and then took two seconds before he asked to speak to you _in private_.”

“Lils, I told you, it was just about this dinner, nothing else happened,” Remus said, prodding the singular white handkerchief he had been sent alongside the suit until it pointed up in a perfect crest.

“So why couldn’t Potter be there too? Isn’t that his right-hand man?”

“Oh, you’re just upset that James ended up sitting in the living room with you and making you laugh so hard, I’m pretty sure they heard you downtown.”

Lily flushed. “He’s so stupid sometimes, I can’t help but laugh.”

“You know, he keeps asking if you’re single. He’ll start ranting about some social media vanity metrics or Charlie Weasley being a media darling and then suddenly shout out,” Here, Remus tried imitating James’s Mid-Atlantic accent and fast speech. “Lupin! Is Evans single? Does she want to date me? Still no? Shit, shit, shit.”

Lily laughed and then quickly puckered her lips together seriously. “I’m telling you, Re, you’ve got to watch out and put an end to this if Sirius ever starts crossing a single professional boundary. I mean, a boundary other than the ones that he has been continually breaking for the last week and a half.”

Remus regretted immediately that he had told Lily about the strange, meaningful touches and prolonged eye contact at work.

“He’s going through a rough patch,” Remus said absentmindedly, pacing up and down the few feet of empty hardwood in his bedroom. 

“Remus, you need to fix your hair,” Lily said suddenly, eyeing Remus’s slightly overgrown, soft brown curls. “You should’ve gotten a haircut.”

Remus narrowed his eyes at her. “I can’t just lop them off on a moment’s notice, can I? I thought about it, I didn’t have the time.”

It was true. James had kept them working past one in the morning every day that week, reunited and brainstorming all together at the mostly empty, loft-like workspace in one of the new, glass-filled towers downtown that Sirius had rented for an exorbitant price. Remus almost missed Dolores and her fairly predictable scheduling tactics, but could not deny that he was being paid a load more money (though it was still embarrassing to get those checks that had _Sirius Orion Black_ at the top) to just think and write. He was grateful that he had Lily to talk him down from his cliff of anxiety when he returned home, which was more than he could say for his friends. Peter seemed constantly at the brink of a breakdown and barely slept. James seemed to be living almost exclusively off coffee beans and Red Bull. Sirius was increasingly peevish with their interns and had told each of them off at least once over the last week before returning with apology cupcakes.

Lily rolled her eyes and dashed off to the bathroom. Within twenty seconds, she had returned with a large bottle of a fruity-smelling mousse and had started to pet Remus’s head with it.

“I feel like I’m ready for senior prom,” Remus said with a nervous laugh, crouching down so Lily could work. He wished that he could look at himself in the mirror, but he refused to keep any in his room. By the fixed look on Lily’s face, it seemed unlikely that she would betray him and make him look bad. He relaxed. After all, he trusted Lily Evans with his entire life.

“Did you even go to senior prom?” Lily said, stretching up on her tiptoes to reach the top of his head before stepping back to admire her work.

“First of all, that’s rude and uncalled-for,” Remus said hotly, “and second of all, no, I did not, because no one asked me.”

The doorbell rang shrilly throughout the apartment and the two roommates looked at each other. Remus was dying to ask Lily whether the fear was etched on his face, but it was clear from the way that his heart thumped viciously in his chest that it was.

“Well, I guess I’m off,” Remus said, attempting jaunty and failing somewhat.

“Don’t you have a coat?” Lily asked, alarmed. She handed him the bowtie, and Remus helplessly stuck it in his blazer pocket.

“Oh. No. It’s okay, I feel silly wearing my regular winter coat over these clothes, and I’ll only be outside for a little while,” Remus said. He stuck the extra notes that he had made for Sirius’s planned speech in his breast pocket and patted his pocket once more to make sure that he had his phone, wallet, and keys.

Lily watched him skeptically, folding her arms over her body once more. She insisted on walking him almost to the door before turning down the hallway.  
“Good luck, Re. And remember, whoever they are, you’re worth ten of them.”

Remus tried to remember this as he flung open the door to find Sirius slouching carelessly against the wall, not seeming to worry if his black, woolen peacoat was somehow ruined by the layer of dust that had built up on the walls outside their apartment complex. The coat was completely unbuttoned and revealed an outfit that was very similar to Remus’s but somehow looked even more posh. His jaw-length black hair was parted half-heartedly in the middle, somehow making his cheekbones seem sharper and more angular. His lips were turned up in a smirk that faltered for a moment and then stretched out into a warm, buoyant smile. Remus felt his heart stutter once, then twice, and then worried that he might actually go into some sort of cardiac arrest if Sirius kept looking at him like that.

“Wow,” Sirius said, openly giving Remus a once-over.

“Oh stop,” Remus replied briskly, trying to conceal a blush as he locked the door behind him. The feeling of his worn, brass keys in his hand felt incongruous with the sharp creases and luxurious fabrics of his outfit.

“Are you ready for this?” Sirius asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Remus rolled his eyes. “Did you get the most recent email that I sent you like an hour ago about the talking points?”

The two of them had spent the bulk of the three days with James specifically discussing how to approach the conversation and what to say. They had all had a meeting just that afternoon to go through the numbers again. James had seemed on the verge of blowing a fuse as he reminded Sirius for the twentieth time how important it was for this dinner to go well.

“I did, and Potter reviewed them and they’re all brilliant, like everything else you’ve written for me this week. Lots of talk about legacy and dedication to public service, blah blah, while avoiding any sort of promises that could be classified as a check that my ass cannot cash.” Sirius said easily, kicking a pebble with the toe of his polished shoe, and then stopped. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Oh,” Remus laughed, though his heart wasn’t quite in it, “the coat that I have in no way would have passed scrutiny to go into the Oak Club. I wouldn’t have made it two steps in without them calling security.”

“Here,” Sirius said, shrugging his coat off absentmindedly and slipping it onto Remus’s shoulders despite his protestations. “You’re taking it and that’s final. I won’t have you getting a cold just because you agreed to go to this stupid dinner with me. You’re taller, but I think it should fit decently enough.” He ended a little awkwardly.

It did fit quite well, Remus noted. It smelled heavily of aftershave and cologne.

“Should we…call a ride share?” Remus asked awkwardly, pulling the coat closer to him. It really was rather cold, and he was feeling foolish for having stepped out of his house without a coat just because he was afraid of looking like the person he actually was in front of a bunch of bigoted, old men at the Oak Club. It might have been the end of February and almost March, but by no means was it warm at all. If he had caught something, it would have served him right.

“Oh,” Sirius said, sounding embarrassed, “my mother sent a car and driver. I hope you don’t mind, I know it’s ridiculous.” He pointed to a black SUV that was parked temporarily across the street, and a cheerful youth popped out and waved cheerfully.

Remus snorted. “Alright, Eloise at the Plaza. What’s next on this charmed bucket list?”

“Good evening,” the young man said grandiosely as they approached the shining, black car. He had long, straight hair would have been extremely cool in the alternative rock music scene about ten years ago. “I’m Stan Shunpike and I’ll be driving you tonight.”

“Oh,” Remus said, feeling extremely silly as Stan yanked open the car door for him and guided him in. “Thanks, Stan. I appreciate it.”

They settled in the backseat of the car, and Remus looked around at the plush leather seating and assorted candies offered to riders. He looked at Sirius with a quizzical look.

Sirius laughed. “Honestly, this might be the best part of the night. You, me, and Stan. I’m not exactly expecting a joyous greeting at this dinner tonight.”

“Who’s on the final guest list?” Remus asked curiously. He had, of course, spent a good deal of time over the last week googling the members of the Oak Club, but the membership rolls were generally kept under wraps. Some members had openly announced their affiliations with the dinner club, but the vast majority preferred to act and dine in silence. Walburga had spent the last few days dangling the guest list over Sirius’s head.

Sirius counted off on his fingers as they drove through Godric’s Hollow and towards downtown. “Burke, Carrow, Bulstrode, Yaxley, Flint, Parkinson, Nott – father and son, both Avery brothers, and Rosier. And then us. A very unlucky thirteen indeed.”

Remus recognized some of those names from various halls and plaques at St. Godric’s, and others from monuments around Godric’s Hollow and in the district that surrounded them. These were old money names, similar to what the Appletons or Coolidges had been to Boston, and any tour guide would tell a visitor to Godric’s Hollow how instrumental these families had been to the founding of their town. In fact, Remus remembered from his first few days at St. Godric’s, he _had_ been on a tour where the cheerful guide had explained the meaning of these families to the history of Godric’s Hollow. He had of course mentioned the Black family too, and Remus’s stomach had leapt at the realization that his roommate of three days was part of a dynasty tied into the fate of the city itself.

“Do you want to practice again, or anything?” Remus asked apprehensively.

Sirius smiled gamely. “I think I work better off the cuff. Anyways, you and James nailed it – I think I know what to say.” He pulled out a small stack of index cards from his breast pocket. He stared down at them.”

“Well, again, no way to fuck this up more than the Fudge interview earlier this week, so I know you’ll be fine,” Remus said lightly, though his stomach turned. What if they hated him? What if they hated Sirius? Without realizing it, his leg had started to bounce up and down. He stared out the window at the flashing, fleeting street lights and tried to calm his nerves by remembering Lily’s words of wisdom. He saw a tentative movement out of the corner of his eye and realized that Sirius had almost put his hand on his knee, had clearly thought better of it, and now had his folded his hands together on his lap as though he did not trust them to stay by his side otherwise.

The drive to the Oak Club was quick, and Stan let them out of the car with a sweeping bow. Remus’s phone offered the time – five to eight. For the first time ever, Sirius would be on time for something, and that was enough to convince Remus of the seriousness of the matter.

“Wait,” Remus said, grabbing onto Sirius’s sleeve abruptly. They were in front of the heavy wooden doors, flanked on either side by doormen, that led into the Oak Club. The wood was heavily varnished and embossed with twin gilt decals of oak trees. “How are you feeling?”

Sirius’s gray eyes were wide and rimmed with – yes, Remus could see it– fear. But his mouth was perfectly pursed in that cavalier smile that he performed so well.

“It doesn’t matter how I’m feeling, at least this will be over soon enough.” He squinted at Remus suspiciously. “Where’s your bowtie?”

Remus felt self-conscious, and he touched his neck almost without realizing it. “It’s in my pocket. I couldn’t put on the damn thing, and Lily couldn’t figure it out either.”

Sirius’s whole face seemed to relax and melted into a genuine smile. “Give it to me, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t do this,” Remus objected, suddenly aware of the two doormen looking over at them.

Sirius shook his head and a single strand of dark hair came loose. He tucked it casually behind his ear. “Nonsense. What sort of person would I be letting you go inside without a bowtie?”

Remus fished the bowtie out of his pocket and looked skyward, where the navy blue of the last hour had simmered into a midnight sky. He felt Sirius’s hands around his neck for a moment that felt almost intolerable, and then he stepped back smugly. Carefully, Remus opened his phone camera to turn it towards him and smiled at the perfectly looped bowtie. He had a text from James that read: _PLEASE DON’T LET SIRIUS FUCK THIS UP, REMUS._

And another from Peter, saying: james is losing it pls hurry back soon.

Remus laughed and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“It looks perfect. Where’d you learn that?”

“Boarding school...until, you know, they kicked me out, anyways, and then we wore just regular ties at the Academy.” Sirius looked uneasy.

Remus nodded. He had heard the story before. In his junior year of high school, Sirius had been kicked out of his prestigious New Hampshire boarding school after his soccer coach had found him kissing another boy, one of his teammates, in the locker room after practice. Orion had paid an obscene amount of money to the school to keep everyone’s mouths shut firmly and funded a new arts wing, punished Sirius severely (at this point, Sirius had drifted off, as though he did not trust himself to tell that part of the story), and Walburga had enrolled him in St. Godric’s Academy for the last year and a half of Sirius’s high school career.

“Shall we go in?” Remus said, nodding towards the heavy wooden doors of the club.

Sirius sighed deeply and looked up at the sky, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I guess we have no other option, do we?” Then he drew up a smile. “The bowtie suits you.”

***

Halfway through the salad course, Remus realized that they had been set up for failure from the beginning, and that there was no way they were going to make it out of this dinner without being torn to pieces. Not to say that he had felt right at any point during the evening. He had felt a strange, tight feeling in his abdomen almost immediately upon entering the lavish and pompous club. The stuffy clerk at the front had asked Remus for two types of ID and only barely permitted him to use his library employee identification, and Remus had had to shamefully root through his wallet to pull out his single debit card in the hopes that that would also constitute a valid form of ID. Then, as an Oak Club employee had led them through the gilded, fragrantly-scented corridors – Sirius receiving the occasional nod from other members, and responding to them with a sharp, arrogant look – Remus had felt a strange sort of hiccup in his stomach. One part of him had wanted to hold onto Sirius’s hand the whole time, which of course was _not_ the point of this dinner and perhaps the farthest possible thing from it. Lily’s warnings rang hot in his ears.

The first hour of the evening had been spent in a cocktail lounge that would not have looked out of place at the Palace of Versailles. The warm, yellow room was lit with candles that emitted picturesque flames and the delicate smell of vanilla. The various couches and loveseats were velvet, or else upholstered with expensive-looking fabric. And yet, despite these efforts at producing a comfortable landscape and the reassuring presence of a glass of red wine in his hand, Remus had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. Even Sirius being there did not dilute the feeling – upon walking into the building, Sirius had become the aloof, bored-looking young man that had greeted him on their first day of freshman year in Avery Hall. He had coolly introduced Remus as a fellow graduate of St. Godric’s University and as his speechwriter to the slew of vaguely obnoxious men who would be joining them for dinner.

The men were almost indistinguishable, and per Remus’s prediction, had been much more interested in speaking to Sirius than getting to know Remus. Remus did not mind. Personally, as they had been fervent supporters of Orion Black, Remus had kept his hackles up and his distance as much as he could. Yet he had engaged some of them – mostly Leopold Nott, who had been at St. Godric’s with them and who had been on the soccer team with Sirius – in what could only be described as tepid small talk. For a moment, Remus dared to relax, especially as he heard Sirius behind him telling a colorful story in his detached voice that sent the other men rolling in peals of laughter. Politics was not brought up once. Remus was cheered thinking of how they would report this back to James.

They were seated for dinner promptly at nine, with the sound of a tinkling bell leading them into an adjacent room. The private room that Walburga had ostensibly booked for this meeting had a long, rectangular table covered with a spotless white tablecloth and thirteen perfectly set table settings. Sirius had been at the head of the table, with Oswald Burke – who seemed to Remus so far the slimiest of the bunch, with a number of off-color comments made during the cocktail hour – at the other end. Remus was sandwiched in the middle between the older Avery brother, who worked at the Avery family law firm, and the man called Yaxley, who sold art pieces worth millions of dollars to families worth billions of dollars. The two of them mostly spoke across each other to Remus during the soup course, though Yaxley had deigned to ask if he was interested in buying a little Chagall piece that he had come across, worth a small sum of two point four million dollars. Remus feared that he may have given himself away as an imposter by the bright shade of red that he had turned almost immediately. Yaxley had grinned in a way that had terrified him.

Right after the appetizer course, which had involved some sort of dark caviar and toast mixture that Remus found impossibly gross, Sirius had stood up, his posture tall and proud. His gray eyes flickered around the room. The room’s mutters faded into silence.

“With many thanks to all of you for being here, I wanted to remind you all of my family’s _deepest_ gratitude for your support over these years. My father would not have been in office for as long as he was without your assistance.”

“Hear, hear,” the man named Parkinson called out, taking a swig of his whiskey. The room burst out in laughs. Remus feigned a laugh as well, though poorly.

Sirius flashed a quick smile and continued, not looking at the cards in his pocket once. “Godric’s Hollow is a place of legend, home to a select research university that is one of the top in the country, a place that I had the privilege of attending as the eighth Black in my family, and a sweeping array of industries. It’s been home to a past President and perhaps, even a future one.” With great ease and comfort, Sirius began to weave the story of Godric’s Hollow as Penelope had once woven at her loom. Even the chronically bored in the group seemed to sit up a little straighter. Remus smiled encouragingly the whole time. Then, he reached the selling point. “As you might have known by now, I am running to take my father’s seat in Congress and become the youngest Congressman in one hundred and thirty years. Your families and my own are tied up in the history of Godric’s Hollow in many ways, and it is my hope to make history of my own in the upcoming special elections, which are set to take place in the last week of April. My father had a legacy – you all were a part of it – and it is time to construct one of my own. With that, I want to thank you profoundly for your support, and I hope you enjoy the dinner.”

There was a round of applause. He sat back into his seat, looking pleased, and began chatting with the younger Avery brother, who was also an attorney and looked almost identical to his brother. They both had handsome, cruel expressions on their faces.

“Listen, Black,” Burke called out from the other end of the table, stopping the conversation swiftly, “while you may have a considerably more silken tongue than your father, I’m afraid that isn’t going to fly here. What exactly are you running on?”

Remus looked through the candelabras that dotted the table until he could find Sirius. He looked uncomfortable under the spotlight. “I’m running on an idea of a new story for Godric’s Hollow. And a story of my own that is connected to the city but isn’t stuck in the past.”

Leopold Nott’s father laughed harshly. “Gentlemen, wouldn’t you say that some of us are stuck in the past, for better or worse?”

“Oh this is going to be good,” Reginald Avery snorted into his gin, shaking the ice around until a waiter came and replaced it.

“Hear, hear,” Carrow, who was sitting next to Yaxley, said loudly. He had a pinched, rodentlike face that for some reason reminded Remus of Peter.

Remus grabbed onto his fork with an effort, realized his hand was shaking, and put the fork back down.

“But do you really want to be known as part of a group that is stuck so vehemently in the past? How do you ever expect to be taken seriously?” Sirius demanded.

“My dear boy,” Bulstrode said, condescendingly and with a touch of amusement behind his words, “we are the only ones who can _afford_ to be taken seriously. That little speech about the history of Godric’s Hollow is true, but it leaves out that this place would be nothing without us and everyone knows it.”

“And who is _everyone_?” Sirius asked. He pushed his dark hair away from his face with anger.

“The new kids who move in here, the professors who keep brainwashing them with their liberal views, and the band of activists who insist we’re all terrible bigots,” Rosier piped up.

Burke made a joke that Remus could not quite hear, with a slur that Remus – having been on the receiving end of the word more than once in his small hometown – heard loud and clear. He knew that Sirius had heard it too, and half the table erupted into laughter. Remus felt his skin crawl. The two of them met eyes and Remus saw how Sirius’s eyes glinted dangerously under the light of the chandelier.

“Orion was perhaps more…tactless with his views than we would have appreciated in public,” Nott said, from the other side of the table. Sirius had once told him that the Nott family was one of the richest in Godric’s Hollow and had made its entire fortune on oil and gas. “But the old man gave us a voice in Congress and reminded everyone of how we built this place from the ground up. And for _that_ , even when he was picketed left and right, he earned our loyalty and our respect. So how do you plan to do the same?”

Remus did not know what Sirius had planned to say. Sirius had opened his mouth to continue but was cut off by Bulstrode’s palm shooting up.

“Enough, gentlemen, let the boy be. If we’re going to be honest here, Sirius,” Bulstrode said good-naturedly, “we are hoping to support you. At the end of the day, many of us can’t stand Malfoy for his real estate business. I _personally_ lost close to two million just last year from his developments, and I disfavor him immensely. He backed out of one of Yaxley’s Picasso deals and lost him quarter of a million just for one damn portrait. We’re inclined to support you, my dear boy.”

Sirius looked surprised.

“It’s true, I hate that son of a bitch,” the younger Avery confided to Remus.

“ _However_ ,” Bulstrode boomed ominously, and Remus realized with a painful kick that this was going poorly, that this had always been a bad idea, and that there was no way they could back out of here alive. “There are conditions to this support. We have seen you grow up since you were a young child, Sirius, and want you to craft a legacy of your own in the same way that we want our children to succeed by pulling themselves up by the bootstraps. In fact, we would want you to be an inspiration for our own children. But we have…questions about your ability to represent us in a way that would have made your father proud.”

“What does that mean?” Sirius asked, and the anger made his voice taut and tight as a tennis racket.

“My daughter says you’re a queer, says she found out when you were at school together,” Flint deadpanned. “I didn’t want to believe it, and told Burke that wasn’t right. That true?”

Remus did not remember the surname Flint from their university days, and then realized with a pang that he must have been referring to the boarding school that Sirius had once attended. He raised his glass to his mouth with a trembling hand.

“What a ridiculous question to ask me at this dinner,” Sirius said coldly. He downed his glass, which was almost immediately refilled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

And then, Remus realized that Walburga had not just set Sirius up with his father’s most ardent financial supporters. That would have been almost too kind of her. No, she had set Sirius up to meet with the most active proponents of his legislation, knowing what she knew. It was the ultimate fuck you.

“Well, we need to know if you’re aligned with our _interests_ ,” Carrow said with a smile.

Remus tried to pick up his fork again and let it clatter to the ground. Thankfully, the rich carpet muffled the sound of clanging silverware. He felt dizzy and achy, as though he were coming down with the flu.

“And what interests are those?” Sirius demanded of Carrow. He finished off his second drink in as many minutes.

“Preserving the family structures that have kept Godric’s Hollow afloat for three centuries.” He replied lightly. “Like your father believed. Like Lestrange believes. And what we _imagine_ that you believe based on your work with him.”

The waiters around them began to pick up their salad plates efficiently, and almost immediately had begun laying out the main course dishes.

“So are you?” Flint demanded.

Sirius looked down at the filet mignon that the waiters had begun serving silently. Then, he looked at Remus and tilted his head to the side, exposing the left side of his face and neck. Remus stared back with unblinking amber eyes. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop during this entire conversation, the moment when Sirius would deny everything and then plead for Remus’s forgiveness in the backseat of the SUV. It would burn, no doubt, but Remus had been branded before and was no stranger to the sensation. Sirius looked like a dead man walking and Remus cursed himself from expecting anything else. He had known in his heart of hearts that something like this would happen at this dinner and that he would be a fool if he expected any other answer.

 _Just do it and be done with it, Sirius_ , Remus thought sullenly.

But then, Sirius opened his mouth, and with a defiant, stony tone, replied: “Yes. I am.”

Then, with a puppylike look on his face as he glanced across the table at Remus, Sirius leaned underneath the table and retched on the expensive, luxurious carpet of the Oak Club’s private dining room.

***

As Remus leaned over and rubbed Sirius’s back as he kneeled on what was perhaps the nicest bathroom floor Remus had ever seen, in the most ornate bathroom Remus had ever seen, and threw up vigorously into a stainless toilet, he used his other hand to shoot James a quick text.

_Meet us at my place in an hour. Dinner could've gone better._


	5. Chapter 5

“ _Remus_!” Lily gasped, as Remus stepped into their living room, Sirius leaning heavily against him. He felt oddly limp in Remus’s arms, like a marionette. This was understandable; Sirius had vigorously thrown up the entire Michelin-starred dinner they had been served at the Oak Club. Remus had run out to the concierge at the front desk to ask for a taxicab with what must have been a wild expression, and the front desk had snippily let him know that Stan was waiting outside for them and, indeed, had never left.

Thirty seconds after Stan had slipped into the front seat of the car once more and Remus had rolled up the dark glass separating the driver from the passengers in the back, Sirius had reclined across the backseat, placing his head gingerly in Remus’s lap, and Remus had not had the heart to shove him away. No, Remus had stared out the window, and run his fingers through Sirius’s jaw-length, black hair when he was almost certain that Sirius had fallen asleep. He knew that Lily would have much to say, but he defended himself against the litigator version of Lily that lived in his head with the thought that Sirius was probably asleep and wouldn’t even remember this. Then, he had set himself to ignoring that side of his brain with purpose. They had stayed like that the entire ride home, with only the stoplights and the rushing sound of other cars keeping them company. Sirius had jolted awake when the car finally stopped in front of Remus’s apartment building, but had not said a single word.

Lily took one look at Remus’s dark expression and stood up from the recliner. She held a glass of white wine in one hand that threatened to spill over with her sudden movement.

James jumped up from their beat-up couch immediately and swiveled around to face them. His normally pleasant, playful face was bemused as he looked from Remus to Sirius, and then – Remus could have sworn he imagined it, he must have – shared a private look with Lily.

“What happened?” James exclaimed, hurrying over to sling Sirius’s arm over his shoulder and dragging him over to the couch. He untied his dark, shiny shoes as he had done for Sirius a hundred times over in college after a late night. “Did you get plastered at this dinner? Too many posh cocktails? I can’t believe you, Black, after I told you how much –”

“James,” Remus said sharply, watching Sirius cringe underneath James’s heated words in silence. “Quit it. He’s not drunk.” He pulled at his bowtie angrily, and the entire knot came undone. He stuffed the bowtie into his pocket and swept his expensive dinner jacket off his shoulders. He felt the odd urge to throw his entire outfit out the window, or burn it into ashes.

“Potter showed up here in his pajamas, saying that you had sent him a message that something had gone terribly wrong.” Lily said, searching Remus’s face for answers that even Remus was not sure he could offer. “I didn’t believe him until he showed me the message. I mean, I wanted to keep him outside, but he started singing and I was afraid he’d wake up all the neighbors.”

Remus glanced at James and his mouth twitched into a smile. James was wearing his black and red flannel pajama pants and a crimson St. Godric’s soccer hoodie. His dark, messy hair looked more rumpled than usual. He must have leapt out of bed and rushed over from the apartment that he and Sirius shared as soon as Remus had written to him.

Remus sat on the floor in between the recliner where Lily sat and the couch, where Sirius was lying down and looking much like a nineteenth-century portrait of a swooning aristocrat. James paced around the few bare inches of the living room floor and then turned on his heel abruptly to face Remus.

“How fucked are we? And more importantly, _why_ exactly are we fucked?” James demanded. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up even further.

Lily shot James a withering look. “Read the room, Potter. Can’t you see something terrible happened? Cool it.”

James wilted underneath Lily’s glare. “Right. Right. Good point, Evans, as usual. Of course. Who wants coffee?”

Against all odds, Remus laughed. He felt a rush of gratitude for James Potter. “James, you once set the dorm kitchen on fire trying to warm up a Pop-Tart. I’m not letting you anywhere near our kitchen. I’ll make it if anyone wants.”

James grinned good-naturedly. “You’re a wise man. But Evans is right, Remus – don’t get up.” Then, his voice and expression turned serious. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Sirius said suddenly from the couch. It was the first word he had said since his proclamation. His voice was hoarse and raspy, as though he had just woken up in the morning. He sat up on his elbows and peered at all of them from underneath his dark, long eyelashes. With a grunt of effort, he sat up and pulled his own blazer off, rolling up the white sleeves underneath until they hit his elbows and just barely showed the bottom of the tattoo on his arm. Remus was not sure whether to admire or hate the fact that Sirius’s beauty was apparent on his fine, elegant face even on a night like this. “Not exactly.”

James paused. His dark brown eyes were wide and round underneath his glasses. Clearly, he was dying to grill them about the events of the evening, but Lily’s gaze was fixed firmly on him as though she dared him to start talking. Remus decided to put him out of his misery.

“Looks like this dinner was a mean little trick courtesy of Walburga Black, seeing as a requisite of being a dinner attendee tonight was that you had to know how to spell at least three homophobic slurs and use them in a sentence,” Remus said bitterly. As he remembered the smug look on Burke’s face as he made a joke, and the laughter that had bloomed around the table, he felt his mood sink out of the lingering surprise at how the night had transpired and straight into an anger that felt as though it could burn down the entire Oak Club and their patrician patrons as well.

“They didn’t say anything to you, Remus? I’ll kick their asses.” James said, eyes blazing. Remus had a sudden flash of the kid on the lacrosse team who had called Remus a slur during a party during their sophomore year. James had punched him solidly in the face. He had been suspended from the soccer team for a month, and had bruised his knuckles badly in the process, but James still considered it one of his proudest moments.

“No. They said shit to me,” Sirius said dryly, lying back down completely on the couch with a groan. Lily blinked at him with puzzled green eyes, clearly attempting to put together the pieces in her head. James was speechless.

Remus took advantage of the moment of silence, got up from the floor, and silently poured Sirius a glass of water from the spigot in the kitchen. Sirius took the glass from him gratefully, leaning up on his elbows again to drink the entire thing. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank from it, rivulets of water sloshing down the front of his expensive shirt. Remus felt as though he were watching Sirius do something intensely private, and wondered whether there were would ever come a moment in their – _friendship_ , he reminded himself quickly – when he would not feel compelled to stare at him until the his image was imprinted onto his eyelids. Sirius finished drinking the water and handed Remus the glass. Their hands touched and their eyes met as the glass changed hands once more, and Remus felt a heat flare up in him that made the sudden rage of a few minutes ago feel small. 

Seemingly oblivious to the moment that had flickered between his two friends, James finally slouched next to Sirius on the couch and let Sirius drape his legs across his lap.

“Wait. They said something to you?” James asked disbelievingly. “Did Malfoy spill anything? I’ll kick his ass too.”

“It wasn’t Malfoy, James,” Remus said, melting into his spot on the haggard-looking carpet. He leaned up against the couch, and after a moment of silence, save for a sudden ambulance siren outside, he felt Sirius ruffling his hair tentatively. His fingers delicately pulled through Remus’s curls. He felt rather than saw Lily and James give each other another meaningful look. Quietly, he tucked this away to call her out at some point.

“But how do you know that it wasn’t him, Remus?” Lily pressed. Her heart-shaped face became squarer as she turned her lips down into a frown.

“Because I told them.” Sirius said simply.

“You told them this at dinner,” Lily repeated, her eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline. Now she and James really _were_ sharing the same dumbfounded expression. Remus imagined telling this story at their wedding – not that he would ever tell Lily that his money was still on the two of them to end up together again, unless he wished to receive an earful from her – and then with another flush of heat, he imagined Sirius standing right next to him as they watched their best friends commit to a life together.

“But I thought you weren’t…that you didn’t want to talk about…” James looked uneasy.

“I couldn’t just sit there and let them have the last words, Jamie boy. The way that they talked…I could’ve spat at them. I should have, honestly. If I had let them think a lie, or worse, agreed with them and their sick views, I would have been a piece of shit just like my father, who, by the way, I hope is rotting somewhere in Dante’s Inferno. How could I do that to myself?” Sirius said, and his voice wavered before it cracked delicately. “And let them do that to Remus? Absolutely fucking not.” The last part came out in a near-whisper, and even Sirius looked startled that he had said it aloud.

James shook his head slowly from side to side. He stood up again, went into the kitchen, looked around at their white refrigerator and assorted tea and coffee collection, and returned into the living room. He did this on a loop three or four times, as though he were dying to go outside and start running. Remus was getting dizzy from watching him move around in a heap of nervous energy. “How did this even come up?”

“They knew from the get-go.” Sirius said wryly, staring at the wooden coffee table in front of him. “An hour and a half of niceties, then Bulstrode saying that they wanted to support me because Malfoy connived them out of some then all of a sudden, it was,” here, he mocked their crude, snobbish voices, “ _hey my daughter thinks that you’re a homo, can you confirm_?”

James took his large, round glasses off and rubbed at the spot between his eyes. He sat once more on the couch and eyed Sirius. “So let me get this straight. One last time, all together now. The group you met, made up of the richest residents of Godric’s Hollow, wanted to support you and offered you a shit ton of money.”

“Correct,” Sirius said, his hand still lazily grazing over Remus’s hair. He stopped only so that he could sit up straight, Remus resting between his legs. Remus refused to move from underneath his touch, as stupid as he felt. “But they said that if I wanted their money, or their love for that matter, I had to align myself with their special interests. Which included being a bigot, not to mention a hypocrite.”

“And so you said no,” James said promptly.

“Correct, Messr. Potter,” Sirius drawled.

“So you torpedoed your chances with the most influential members of the conservative party, and probably more people than just your dinner companions, seeing as they’ll probably run to share the news with their heinous friends?”

“That’s right,” Sirius said, starting to crack a smile.

James studied his best friend for a moment before breaking out into a ferocious smile.

“Good lad, Black,” he said, and jumped on him. Remus just barely scrambled out of the way on time, as James landed heavily on Sirius’s chest. The two of them started laughing, and then boisterously wrestled each other off the couch and onto the oat-colored carpet.

“What is _wrong_ with them?” Lily asked, eyeing the two boys skeptically and heading into the kitchen to heat up water for tea and turn on the coffee-maker. Remus, having figured out long ago that the relationship between James and Sirius was too complicated to understand, followed her. He leaned against the countertop that Lily had covered with cheap, marble-like wrapping paper and watched Sirius and James crawling all over his tiny living room, James threatening to lift Sirius above him, Sirius tackling him until they were dangerously close to crashing against the Victrola. “Hey, easy!” She called out.

James looked up from where he had Sirius in a headlock and sheepishly let him go. The two of them started to pat each other, as though inspecting each other for injuries. Remus could hear the two of them speaking in low tones to each other and turned back to Lily.

“This has been one of the strangest nights of my entire life,” Remus said to no one in particular, scrubbing a hand over his long face. He felt the odd tingling that signaled an impending migraine course throughout his body.

Lily leaned towards Remus conspiratorially. “I’m going to be honest with you, Re. You know I’ve never been Black’s – um, Sirius’s – biggest supporter. And I still think he’s no good for _you_ , because you deserve better than someone who flat-out broke your heart. But it is…interesting, at the very least, that he decided to stand up for himself. Or for you. If it weren’t him, I’d almost say that was brave of him.”

“Me!” Remus exclaimed, selecting four mugs from their cabinets. For himself and Lily, he picked two of their favorites. Lily’s had Monet’s water lilies stretched across it from their trip to New York City together last year. Remus’s was from their trip as well, and bore the red and white logo of the Strand Bookstore. For Sirius and James, he selected two of the matching cups that Lily’s sister, who had moved to Texas with her husband and their newborn baby over a year ago, had half-heartedly gifted them as a housewarming present. They were adorned with colorful, slightly intimidating flowers. “He wasn’t even thinking about me.”

Lily made an incredulous scoffing sound with the side of her mouth and poured herself out a half-cup of tea. “You can’t be serious. Guaranteed that if Potter had gone with him to this bourgeoise dinner, Sirius would be collecting the big bucks from all those horrid men. He definitely wouldn’t have opened his mouth at all. No, Re, I think he did it for you more than he even did it for himself.”

It was a strange sort of rush that flooded Remus now, quite unlike the full-body tingling that marked the beginning of a migraine. It was the prodigious sensation of wondering whether Sirius had truly chosen to sacrifice the support of a dozen influential donors, and likely an entire swath of his father’s voters, for _him_ , even if Sirius realistically knew what this meant for his campaign. Part of him, the rational side that sounded like Lily, reminded Remus that Sirius had been unwilling or unable to tell many of their schoolmates that he and Remus had dated during college and had chosen to break up with him after college rather than be burned off his rotten family tree. Another side of Remus reminded him of the intimate conversation that they had had when Remus had agreed to join the campaign, and Sirius’s quiet, pleading look as he had explained that his father would have wreaked havoc on Remus’s entire life. Still another part of him thought affectionately of Sirius as a brave young man who had defied his family’s expectations a dozen times over despite the Atlas-sized weight of their beliefs and prejudices, and who had been bold enough to embark on this new adventure on his own terms. Finally, Remus thought of the version of Sirius who had loved him so dazzlingly that Remus felt as though he might drown in the overwhelming, miraculous light of their relationship. The problem was that Remus could not tell which side of Sirius had acted at the Oak Club, and he was too afraid to ask.

Sirius was just too complicated to reckon with and always had been, Remus thought, as he poured himself a cup of water and unceremoniously dumped a teabag into it. He had a mercurial, flighty nature, and it made it difficult for those who loved him – or who had loved him, he reminded himself again with a chastening slap on the hand – to be able to truly discern what he meant until long after the tempest had cleared. He poured James and Sirius two hot, strong cups of coffee, and waited until Lily finished doctoring her tea with milk and honey, just as she liked it. She grabbed one mug and her own and led Remus back into the living room, where James and Sirius were lying on their backs on the carpet like two dogs who had run out of steam from galloping about too much.

“These for us? Cheers, Evans,” James said, sitting up and gratefully accepting a mug from Lily with a bright, broad smile. Remus had missed James’s occasional British-isms over the last three years. James’s parents had been born in India, had spent their early childhoods and early adulthoods in England, and had moved to the United States shortly before James was born. Remus remembered Fleamont and Euphemia from college visits, with their lovely, lilting accents. James’s family was split up across three continents, with a good part still living in India, and many cousins in England. He had often taken lavish, trans-continental family trips growing up. James had truly milked his British heritage for all it had been worth in college – he threw a legendary London-themed costume party each year in the dorms, once going so far as to get Remus, Peter, and Sirius to dress up like members of a popular British boy band.

Sirius sat up too, and grinned at Remus in a playful way, as though they were sharing a particularly good secret. He looked as though his little tussle with James had left him rejuvenated. Even his skin seemed healthier and more flushed than it had been an hour ago.

For a while, the four of them drank in silence. James tapped eagerly at his phone with one hand, his thumb skating over the keyboard adroitly.

“Oh for crying out loud, it’s one in the morning,” Lily said, looking over impatiently at their living room clock. “Are you both planning on moving in?”

“Well, it depends,” Sirius said jovially. “Would you let us, Evans?”

“No,” Lily deadpanned, and Remus laughed at the stern look on her face.

“Not even James? Heard he’s a good roommate. Remus can be a character reference.”

“ _Especially_ not Potter. Though let’s not get it twisted, Black, you’re not exactly on my good list either, even if you may have redeemed yourself by a single hair,” Lily warned.

“Even though I may have just completely destroyed my campaign? Even with all of that, you’re still not convinced of my upstanding moral nature?” Sirius asked loftily, drinking from his coffee cup. “Damn, Evans, you have high standards.”

Remus settled himself back on the couch and sipped at his tea. He had left the bag in too long, and it tasted vaguely bitter and burned, but he didn’t mind. “Lily has a point. Are you both planning to park yourselves here all night? Are we working right now? Is the campaign over? Should I call Dolores and beg for my job back?”

Privately, Remus could not bear the thought of returning to his job at the library. Perhaps he would try to get a job at a bookstore, though he could not imagine himself being particularly persuasive as a bookseller.

“You’re not calling that old bird for anything,” James said, with a cheerful tone. “The campaign is alive and well. While you and Evans were in the coffee, Sirius and I were figuring out what to do, and I was texting the interns to see if they could crunch some new numbers for me.”

“They must absolutely love working for you,” Lily snorted, “seeing as it’s past midnight on a Tuesday.”

“Oh, they love me,” James said, either steamrolling past Lily’s sardonic tone or genuinely not noticing it. “Worship me, practically. I mean not as much as they have a thing for Sirius, but I mean, that’s sort of understandable. I think it’s the hair. And the old money.”

“So what’s the plan then, Prongs?” Remus asked, realizing immediately that he would be willing to follow James and Sirius into just about any hare-brained idea they concocted, even if he pretended that he would think hard about it. It was curious how muscle memory worked within them, and how Remus was so willing to fall back into their old patterns and habits after little more than a week.

Lily groaned. “Please don’t tell me they still call you that.”

James looked delighted. “It’s a great nickname, Evans. Have you heard the story of –”

“Yes, Potter, everyone knows why it’s your nickname.” Lily waved him away. “The deer story when you all went camping, we remember.”

James was clearly flattered that Lily had kept the memory nearby. He beamed at Lily until she reddened, her skin nearly matching her hair. Remus cleared his throat significantly at him, and James turned to him with wide, flashing, doe-like eyes.

“Ah yes, good man, Lupin. _Anyways_ , the new plan is that Sirius is going to get ahead of the band of gargoyles at the Oak Club and their gossip, and tell the world the news himself. It’s the biggest fuck you to Orion’s legacy, and I hadn’t wanted to press because I didn’t think Sirius even wanted to talk about it, but it’s perfect for the idea of how to craft a new legacy that sets him completely apart from his fucked-up family. He’s going to come out – er, sorry, Sirius, no pun intended – swinging at the society where he grew up, curse his father’s legacy, and make a compelling argument for why he is distinguishable from all those fuckers. We do a complete pivot and use the political dynasty angle as representative of everything that’s wrong with the people who are currently in power and societal upper echelons.” James looked almost manic with excitement.

“Wow, Jamie, that’s the first time anyone has ever referred to me as distinguished,” Sirius said, pretending to dab at a tear. James pretended to hurl his phone at him. Remus watched the two of them interact affectionately, with only a mild aftertaste of jealousy.

Lily thought hard. “Right, so that makes sense to set Sirius apart from Malfoy, since he’s part of that ilk, but what about Charlie or Emmeline? What’s the plan there?”

James looked even more invigorated than he had a moment ago. Remus was afraid that his excitement was going to send him skyrocketing through their ceiling and straight into Mrs. Figg’s apartment above them. “Emmeline doesn’t have any policy positions yet, but the rumors are that she’s going to try to woo over the small business folks. So we just go out there and charm them even more, talk about how much we patronized small businesses in college –”

“– Maybe not using the word patronize, though –” Remus added quickly.

“Right, right, well I don’t write speeches, that’s on you,” James smiled. “You’re the wordsmith here. I’m just spitballing. And then we base whatever else we’re going to do off what she does. Try to court the centrist vote. Anyways, she’s new to the game, not _that_ much funding, and so if we hang on long enough, she might just drop out on her own and we can take up the whole center field.”

“How are you even paying for this, Sirius?” Remus asked, suddenly realizing that he knew startlingly little about campaign finances. Peter mostly handled the money and gave James and Sirius an unlimited budget for whatever whimsies they had.

“Uncle Alphard,” Sirius said reverently. Sirius’s uncle, a bachelor – _probably one of us_ , Sirius had told Remus once – had died when they were in college, leaving Sirius his entire fortune.

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes betraying her amusement and interest. “Alright, Potter. So you’ve come up with a strategy against Malfoy, and a questionable one against Vance. How about Charlie Weasley? I doubt that even with your new messaging, you’re going to win any progressive who sees Sirius as a pampered rich boy who was raised in a gold bassinet.”

“You wound me, Evans,” Sirius said.

“Not sorry, Black.”

“Anyways, you’re wrong. My mother never liked me enough to put me in a gold crib. That would be Regulus’s nursery.”

“So what about Weasley?” Lily continued.

James downed the dregs of his coffee and began pacing once more. “The progressive wing of Godric’s Hollow is only about twenty-five percent, and four of us are in this room and voting for Sirius, so that’s a great start.”

“Wait a minute,” Lily objected. “Who said I’d vote for Black?”

“No one says you’ll do it for Sirius. But you’ll do it for Remus, right?” James offered with a smile.

“Oh fuck you,” Lily sighed, and Remus knew that she had been bested.

“Listen, Evans, you have excellent points. In fact, if I didn’t know for a fact that you were an incredibly talented paralegal and your office would fall apart without you, I’d ask you to join our strategy team. We just need to get over Weasley’s twenty-five percent. And we do that by starting to cut divisions into the conservatives.”

“Right, it makes sense, but how are you going to start? Through advertising? Sorry, Potter, but I’ve been getting more ads for Charlie Weasley’s campaign over the last two days than I’ve ever gotten for yours. No, you need to go back to television,” Lily fired back.

“Don’t you feel as though we’re watching a bit of a lover’s quarrel?” Sirius stage-whispered, moving to sit next to Remus on the couch. “I feel like we’re back in Avery Hall and they’re about to go find a room.” He put his arm on the couch behind Remus and stretched languidly. Without noticing – for Remus refused to acknowledge the possibility that Sirius was doing it intentionally – Sirius began to brush his leg against Remus’s. And then, he wrapped his ankle around Remus’s, and the noise in the room from Lily and James bickering started to fade into a cacophony of white noise in Remus’s ear.

“ _I heard that_ ,” Lily said, sounding only mildly annoyed.

“For the record,” Sirius said loudly, breaking Remus from his thoughts, “I refuse to go back to that awful Skeeter woman.”

“No worries,” James said easily. “Because you’ve got a television interview with Dorcas Meadowes on Wednesday. Finagled one of her interns to give me an in – turns out she was supposed to interview that new local singer, Celestina something? And she dropped out.”

“Oh wow,” Lily said, sounding mildly impressed. “Can I come?”

James looked star-struck. “You want to come see it live?”

“I’d need a ticket for Marlene too, she’s obsessed with Dorcas.”

“Whatever you want, Evans,” James said dreamily.

Remus blinked. “Wednesday as in _tomorrow_ , James?”

James looked at his watch, a simple, but expensive present that his parents had given him for his eighteenth birthday. “Huh, look at that. Damn right. No time like the present. Gotta stay ahead of the news cycle before we’re eaten by it.”

“Good point. I’m sure the gargoyles we had dinner with already reached out to the Black matriarch,” Sirius said. “I turned my phone off in the car, but I’d be surprised if I didn’t have a two-minute voicemail from mommy dearest, reminding me what an abject failure I am and probably throwing in a bunch of homophobic shit just for color.”

There was a pause as Sirius’s face turned momentarily moody. 

“That’s the spirit, Sirius,” James said, unflappable as ever. “Right. So, everyone has their jobs ready, right? Remus, you’re on to write the best speech ever and try out Sirius’s new talking points for Dorcas. I’ll get one of the interns to help you figure out her line of questioning, and we’ll send over some questions to her team tomorrow. Er, later today. Sirius, you’ve got to figure out how to make yourself as approachable and likeable as possible, which I know is impossible when you’re bloody you. Evans, your job is to stay gorgeous and brilliant.”

“And what’s your job, Prongs?” Sirius asked with a smirk.

James flashed an award-winning smile and snatched the coffee cup out of Sirius’s hands, draining the last bits. “My job is to not sleep between now and then, in case anything else dramatic happens on this fucking campaign.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we made it to Friday! Thanks for reading - I am grateful for the comments, the kudos, and the time people have spent reading this work :')


	6. Chapter 6

“Does my hair look alright?” Marlene asked Lily and Remus anxiously. She had already gone over to the lit-up mirror in the dressing room that Sirius had been assigned a dozen times that morning. 

“It looks great,” Remus said, as he studied Marlene’s rather complicated-looking updo. “Er, what the fuck am I supposed to be looking for, though?”

Lily laughed. Marlene frowned at her reflection, trying to shove Sirius out of the way and making the make-up artist tending to his face laugh. She looked fantastic, with her sharp eyeliner, spiky stilettos, and flattering black jumpsuit. Not for the first time that morning, Remus regretted going for a boring, predictable maroon sweater and a pair of plain cords.

“Honestly, McKinnon, anyone would think _you’re_ the one about to go on television,” Sirius drawled from his chair, which was positioned right in front of the lighted mirror. The make-up artist finishing dabbing him with powder, and he gave her a wicked little smile of thanks. She left the dressing room with a soft click of the door. “Anyways, how do I look, is the real question?”

“Like a tosser,” James called out without looking up from his phone.

“Like a prick,” Marlene added simultaneously.

“You look great,” Remus said at the same time, before getting annoyed at his own extremely earnest response. Lily shot him a look. Sirius beamed. Luckily for Remus, Marlene had decided to pick an argument.

“Listen, Black,” Marlene snapped, twirling one of her strategically loose strands of blonde hair around a finger again and plopping into one of the loveseats next to Lily, “you should be grateful that we’re here. And I can’t help it if I’m just a _little_ excited to meet my favorite talk show host.”

“You mean your secret crush,” Remus laughed. He was leaning against the wall opposite the light-up mirror, several feet behind Sirius, yet able to study him almost perfectly from the shadows. Sirius was glowing from the lightbulbs that surrounded the big mirror.

“Wow, Lupin, no tact,” James snickered from his spot next to the door. He kept tapping on his phone furiously. No doubt, James was talking to one of the interns back at the office, who would be monitoring social media to figure out what the general attitude was to Sirius’s interview.

“Right, there’s the spirit, McKinnon. Woo Dorcas and make her go easy on me, good game plan,” Sirius said easily, leaning in close to the mirror to inspect his coiffed, black hair. He was wearing a creased, light gray suit that made his eyes look like swirling storm clouds and brought out the sharp, angular lines of his cheekbones and jawline. Sirius’s glinting gray eyes met Remus’s amber ones in the glass, and he shot him a coquettish wink. Remus made a big show of looking elsewhere and defiantly ignoring the burn in his cheeks.

“Thirty minutes until showtime, Mr. Black,” one of Dorcas’s interns, a fellow named Fletcher, popped into the dressing room where the six of them had been lingering. Sirius nodded at Fletcher. “Your entourage will be seated in the front row, but they can also watch anything from here if they’d rather stay put.” He pointed to the three large, flat-screen televisions that dominated the green wall opposite Lily and Marlene’s loveseat and the long, velvet couch next to them.

“For the record,” Lily said, though her matter-of-fact tone was diluted significantly by the large yawn that she could not hold back, “we are not part of your entourage. We’re here to meet Dorcas, and that’s about it. It’s like I told Potter, there are no feelings involved here.”

“Were you saying that about you and Jamie boy’s little flirtations, or about my interview?” Sirius asked deviously, and Lily looked furious. James finally looked up from his phone.

“If anyone should talk about flirting with their college exes, it’s –” Marlene began, presumably defending Lily by inadvertently throwing Remus under the bus. Lily saw her coming from a mile away and interrupted her suddenly.

“Anyways,” Lily said with a huff, “we’re not here for you.”

“Legendary support, really, Evans and McKinnon. Those are the sort of real, life-long connections Dumbledore said we would make at St. Godric’s,” Sirius said wryly. Remus smiled softly, remembering their University President’s long, rambling, and sometimes nonsensical speeches.

“I seem to remember Professor McGonagall calling Dumbledore’s bluff about twenty minutes after that orientation speech.” Remus smiled, thinking about their freshman advisor’s stern, skeptical speech during that same first week. It had been McGonagall who had deemed the four of them the Marauders, a silly little name that had stuck with them for all four years and which, even now, far away from the hallowed halls of St. Godric’s, gave Remus the same goosebumps that he had once felt at having a group of solid friends for the first time.

“Fair point.” Sirius replied with a smirk. “Imagine she could see us now. I hope she watches this interview, actually. Pretty sure she was in love with me.”

James scoffed. “Sirius, you think everyone is in love with you.”

Remus laughed along with the rest of his friends, though he was mildly conflicted. Even James could not deny the fact that many people _were_ genuinely in love with Sirius.

“Is Pete ever coming back with coffee?” James asked abruptly. His eyes were unnaturally big. James had been downing energy drinks for the last two days, trying to get all their ducks in a row for this event and bossing around the interns who worked long hours alongside them.

“I could use a coffee right about now,” Lily admitted. She broke out into another yawn that stretched her whole jaw, like a cat.

“Agreed,” Remus said, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn of his own. Not only had he gotten up at five in the morning so that they could be at the studio at six, since Dorcas’s show aired at seven in the morning, but he had also not slept well in at least two nights and lacked the benefit of James’s unique tolerance for energy drinks. All he had done was pick up – temporarily, he promised both the real-life version of Lily and the version of her that lived in his mind – his little smoking habit from college again in an effort to keep himself awake. They had spent almost of all their time together, the four Marauders, either at their office downtown, or in Sirius and James’s extravagant apartment, and once even returning to Lily and Remus’s to brainstorm some more talking points and then knock out for a few hours on their couch. Remus had not written and re-written more since his days working on his senior capstone. He felt as though he were on the brink of collapse.

If Remus had to be honest with himself, though, it was not just the writing that had him feeling drained. Marlene was right, even if she was tactless. Sirius had most definitely _been_ flirting with him, a reality that Remus felt was too thorny to dive into in the midst of his very complicated political campaign. Sirius flirted with everyone, Remus reasoned, and there was no reason to think that anything was different just because he would be coming out on live television. The fact that Sirius had not dated anyone since they had broken up – a fact that James had dropped in conversation with a forced bit of casualness just yesterday – did not mean anything either. Sirius cared for him as a friend and as a speechwriter for this campaign. He was one of Godric’s Hollow’s most eligible bachelors, and Remus was…well, himself. In fact, Remus had thought once or twice, with a twee bit of misery that embarrassed him immensely, Sirius would probably get a good deal of male suitors in addition to the hordes of female ones after this interview, and Remus would have to deal with that.

As though he had been summoned, Peter appeared almost immediately, bearing different coffees and teas for everyone in two cardboard containers.

“Have I missed anything?” Peter squeaked.

“Nope, but boy, are we happy to see you,” Sirius said with a grin, plucking a dark roast coffee out of Peter’s hands. James paid Peter for everyone’s order, and the group retreated to separate corners to sip gratefully on their beverages.

There was a sudden, delicate rap at the door.

“Yeah, come in,” Sirius called out from in between sips of his coffee.

With a graceful stride forward, Dorcas Meadowes and two of her assistants swept into the room. Remus felt his exhaustion melting away, replaced by a childlike delight at seeing Dorcas in real life rather than on their small television at home. Dorcas was even more vibrant in person – a turquoise turban sat on her thick, dark curls and matched her turquoise culottes perfectly. Her brown eyes, lined in blue and surrounded by feathery eyelashes, were dancing with cheer despite the early morning hour. Her dark skin glowed underneath the spotlights in the green room. She was shorter than Remus imagined, despite the chunky high heels that she maneuvered with ease.

“You must be Sirius Black,” Dorcas said warmly, sticking her hand out towards Sirius. Her voice was rich. Sirius jumped out of his chair and shook her hand energetically.

“It’s a real pleasure, Dorcas. Thanks so much to you and your team for having me,” Sirius said genteelly, ever the picture of propriety.

“Are these your friends?” Dorcas said, looking around the room approvingly. Remus noticed that her eyes flashed once, then twice over Marlene.

“Yes, this is the whole gang.” Sirius said, walking around the small room and introducing people to Dorcas. Everyone shook hands with her excitedly as Sirius pointed them out. “James Potter, my irreplaceable and unmatchable campaign manager; Peter Pettigrew, my chief financial officer who keeps the ship running smoothly every day; Lily Evans, one of my brilliant friends from college and a future Supreme Court justice; Marlene McKinnon, a terribly good soccer player and very talented graduate student, not to mention a fellow queer –”

Remus bit back a snort. Marlene looked as though she wanted to strangle Sirius, but then noticed Dorcas’s bright look of interest and immediately shot her a delightful, toothy smile.

“ –and of course, my, er, um, my chief speechwriter, Remus Lupin, the best person I know,” Sirius said, looking shy and out of place for a fleeting moment before jumping back into his cheerful exuberance. Dorcas beamed at Remus, who returned a real smile.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet all of you,” Dorcas said genuinely, and then turned to Sirius with a serious look on her face. “Sirius, do you trust everyone here? Can I speak freely? Or would you rather step outside and talk privately?”

“Absolutely,” Sirius said without thinking. “I trust everyone here with my life.”

Remus noticed that even Lily looked a little softer in her facial features. Sirius’s willingness to trust his friends had always been one of his finer qualities. Though for a moment, Remus wished that Sirius and Dorcas would have this conversation outside of everyone’s range of hearing. Remus felt silly for thinking it, but after Peter had sold him out on that first night, Remus was no longer sure how much he could trust his friend. Still, he wouldn’t mention this to James or Sirius. He was probably being paranoid, he reassured himself, as he watched Peter’s ears perk up excitedly.

Dorcas nodded. “First of all, I’m glad that you trust _On Air_ to be the first to break this story. I take this very, very seriously. But I also wanted to warn you with all the kindness in my heart, as someone else who came out publicly and to a good deal of hullaballoo, that you are about to get a whole lot of ugly thrown at you.”

Something curious flickered on Sirius’s face before he returned to his normal, charming smile. It was fear, Remus realized after a beat. He had not seen that look on Sirius’s face in many years. Remus felt a swoop of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, imagining Sirius as the object of so much scrutiny. It felt unfair to subject Sirius, so talented and so handsome and so incredibly fucked-up in many ways that most people would never know, to that sort of talk, like allowing a famous painting to sit out in the rain.

“Lots of people in Godric’s Hollow are wonderful, but I have also gotten a lot of uncomfortable things and downright disrespectful things said to me. Now you and I are from different worlds. We fight different battles. But the words will come, Sirius, and I just want you – and all your friends – to know that things will probably be different from here on out. Do you understand?”

Sirius nodded quickly. Dorcas gave him a small smile.

“Good. Now, I know you love all your friends, but maybe pick two of them and come back with me and Kingsley to the Annex. The rest of your friends can go with Gideon and they’ll be seated in the front row, and then your two friends can re-join them just before the show starts. It’s a pretty tight schedule once we start rolling, fifteen minutes, then commercial, then another fifteen minutes, and we’re all set. Sound good to you?”

“Nothing’s ever sounded better,” Sirius said, with an artificial cheer. Remus wondered if anyone else could tell that he was clearly going through _something_ at that moment, or whether Remus just knew him well enough to know what the minute changes in the inflection of his voice and the small creases that appeared on his face meant. Sirius immediately flipped his head upside down, until he could lock eyes with Remus. “Potter, Remus, would you?”

“Yeah, of course,” James said promptly, pulling his phone out once more to check the time and shoot off another few texts.

Remus nodded. He noticed Peter looking deflated at not being selected, and patted him encouragingly on the shoulder.

“Good luck, Black,” Lily said.

“Yeah, don’t fuck it up,” Marlene said brightly.

Dorcas and Kingsley, who was a quiet, dependable-looking type of man, led Sirius, Remus, and James off towards the Annex, the part of the set that surrounded the main stage where Dorcas would interview Sirius. Marlene and Lily followed closely behind, chatting with Dorcas’s tall, good-looking assistant, Gideon. James kept turning around and shooting the man daggers with his eyes until the trio had disappeared behind a curtain, presumably joining the crowd. When they reached the cordoned-off space, staff members rushed around like they were in a hospital’s emergency room. They all seemed stressed and hyper-focused. As Dorcas approached the set, two of them immediately flocked to her and began asking her questions.

“It seems this is my cue. Gentlemen, I’ll see you out there,” Dorcas said, with a deep smile that crinkled her eyes. She and Kingsley sped off towards the stage with a gaggle of show assistants in tow. One assistant approached Sirius, and – after brusquely asking him for permission – began to mic him up, running the black wires up his shirt and down again in an efficient, painful-looking way. They left as soon as they had arrived.

“Well, it’s looking like now or never,” Sirius said in an oddly high-pitched voice. He gripped the lapels on his blazer, as though he were trying to steady himself. He rocked back and forth on his loafers so hard, he looked as though he might burn a hole in the sole. Remus briefly wondered if he was going to throw up again, or pass out. “Wish I had a cigarette, right about now.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” Remus said absentmindedly, though he was craving the same.

“Yeah, and anyways,” James said earnestly, “this is going to be the best thing, Sirius. It’s really going to reinvigorate this whole campaign, and give a giant middle finger to your father’s old cronies. Useless, bigoted wankers. Ah shit, hold on, I’ve got to talk to this intern about Twitter analytics. Be right back.” He wandered off, talking a mile a minute.

“Right,” Sirius said uneasily, worrying his bottom lip with his front teeth. He stood on one foot, then the other, and finally turned to Remus. “Can I talk to you for a second? Please?”

“Sure,” Remus replied. “I mean, it’s just the two of us here. D’you want to go over your lines one more time?”

“No, I mean, I was thinking somewhere a little more private.”

“Oh, alright, but where –”

With a forceful arm around Remus’s waist, Sirius pulled him into a narrow, dark crevice sandwiched between the Annex and another blocked-off area. They were shrouded by dark, billowing curtains that let very little light seep in, save for two light streams that crossed over their feet, showcasing Remus’s practical winter boots and Sirius’s designer loafers. The two of them were far closer than Remus would have hoped, and he felt as though Sirius could certainly hear his heart pounding mercilessly in his chest. He felt as though he were enveloped in a tidal wave of Sirius Black, with his familiar cologne and the faint, sweet smell of hair products that the hair and make-up artist had so diligently applied wafting up Remus’s nose. It was a pleasant sort of drowning, Remus thought absurdly.

“Remus,” Sirius said, and he was surprised to hear the plea in Sirius’s voice, the terror of it all, the speed with which he spoke. “I’m afraid. I’m so fucking scared. I thought I would pass out doing this at the Oak Club, with all of these people that I had known since I was a little kid at my father’s horrible fundraisers, people I don’t give a damn about. Now I’m supposed to just do this all over again, as though it’s not something that I was terrified of admitting even to myself? And on _television_? Was James out of his fucking mind, suggesting this? Am I an idiot for accepting? Maybe I just tell Dorcas –”

He was talking more and more quickly, tripping over all of his words. Remus could feel rather than see his hands beginning to tremble.

“Sirius,” Remus said softly, tilting his head down towards him. “I know that this is scary. Hell, it wouldn’t make any sense if you _weren’t_ a little scared about everything. It’s going to be hard, and like Dorcas told you, people are cruel. But I know you, and you have this incredible capacity for bravery. It’s what made me want to be your friend. And it’s what made me want to join you on your campaign even when you admitted we had a shot in hell. And,” Remus said, debating whether to point out the massive, silent elephant in the room, “it’s what made me fall in love with you all those years ago. You just have to draw on that reserve of courage, somehow, figure out what it is, and hold onto it even when everything else is falling apart.”

There was a pause, as they fell into silence amidst the commotion surrounding them. The light outside shifted, and they were both thrown partially into relief. Remus could see the gears behind Sirius’s grey eyes turning desperately as he looked up at Remus.

“It’s you.”

“What’s me?”

“ _You_ make me brave.”

“Oh, fuck off, Sirius, that can’t be true,” Remus said uncertainly, scratching at the back of his head with a laugh. “You know that’s not right.”

“Why would I lie to you?” Sirius asked. “That night at the Oak Club, I stood up to those guys because of you. Because you make me want to be a better person, and you make me want to do something, and…oh God, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Remus was not sure whether he was more startled at this impromptu confession or Sirius’s sudden explosion of laughter.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Coming out on live television?” Sirius said, almost hysterical. “This is going to be a disaster. It’ll make my time on Rita Skeeter’s show look like a merry good time.”

Remus did the only thing he could think of, and took Sirius’s hands in his own. They were clammy and cold, and outrageously soft, and Remus had the sudden, ridiculous image of sticking them underneath his sweater to keep them warm.

“Look, Sirius. Whatever you’re feeling right now? Completely valid. But let me just say that if you go out there and completely lose your head, you’ll not only make yourself look like a fool, but you’ll also be fucking up the sleepless nights that James, Pete, and I have spent trying to make you look good. Go out there, and kick ass, and be brave. And if you really think that…um…I can…help, then you look out into that audience and you can see me, and James, and Pete, and Marlene and Lily, who are here with you even though the girls swear up and down they hate you. Because they don’t,” Remus added hastily, feeling as though his words were being mixed up in his head and sorted into bizarre sentences on the way out of his mouth.

Sirius nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve got to do this, and I’m going to do this right.” He exhaled sharply, then slowly pulled his right hand out of Remus’s and touched the side of Remus’s face, holding onto the side of his face. Remus drank in the expression on Sirius’s face. For a wild, pregnant moment, Remus thought he was about to kiss him and did not trust himself to not kiss Sirius back. That would be a disaster. There were a thousand words that needed to be exchanged before that was even a possibility, and anyways, Remus reminded himself, Sirius was not his boyfriend any longer and probably would never be again. After a few seconds, Sirius gently tapped Remus on the cheek twice like he did sometimes with James, and then stepped out of the crevice.

“Oh finally, there you are,” James said, dragging Sirius towards two assistants. Remus wondered how James had known exactly where they would be, and whether he had intentionally let them spend time alone. “Time to go.”

“Looks like it’s showtime,” Sirius said with a grin.

Remus felt faintly disappointed and hated himself for the prickly sensation of words unspoken in his chest. “Guess so. Break a leg, Black.”

***

The first fifteen minutes of the interview went splendidly. Remus sat in the middle of the front row, flanked by James on one side and Lily on the other. Dorcas and Sirius had an amicable, charming rapport with one another that somehow made both of them seem more relatable and yet more unattainably beautiful than ever. In a way that seemed quite natural and organic, Sirius fed Dorcas lines that Remus had crafted about the small businesses that Sirius had frequented as a child – many of which had been forced to close because of incredibly high rents in town, something that Sirius pledged to tackle head-on; his time at St. Godric’s, where he met exemplary classmates who deserved to feel at home in his hometown as much as anyone else; and an anecdote about saving his younger brother, Regulus, from getting lost on the subway in high school – an experience that had taught him that public transit needed to be more accessible and less confusing for everyone. Remus flushed with pride at seeing how well and how easily Sirius made the connections between his personal life and the spirit of his campaign. A little voice inside Remus’s head reminded Remus that the first half was the easy part. The dramatic announcement would come in the second act.

After a short commercial break, during which Sirius was surrounded by hair and make-up artists who could find almost nothing to touch up, Dorcas transitioned to the meat of the interview. She asked him about his thoughts on housing, healthcare, and expanding social benefits, and Sirius volleyed back with decidedly progressive views. Then came the moment of truth, and Dorcas crossed and re-crossed her legs as she leaned in towards Sirius.

“Sirius, let’s talk frankly for a moment. Your father, Orion Black, was a Congressman for thirty years. What do you think about the legacy that he left behind?”

Sirius smoothly recited the words that had come out of Remus’s pen just a day before. “I’m ashamed of the legacy that he left behind. My father was responsible for some of the most heinous legislation to pass over the last few Congressional sessions, and I apologize profusely on behalf of my family for using a position of power and privilege in a way that hurt more than helped many of the most historically excluded communities in Godric’s Hollow. It is not a legacy worth promoting, or condoning, in my opinion. I grew up surrounded by prejudice and bigotry on every side, and I am committed to erasing as much of it within Godric’s Hollow as I can.”

Dorcas nodded. “Your father was particularly known for his vehemently anti-gay positions, and became one of the unofficial spokesmen of the so-called ‘pro-family’ movement. What do you think about that, and how does that play a role in your campaign?”

Here was the moment. The do, or die. Sirius’s wide gray eyes flickered over to Remus, who nodded at him encouragingly. The silence seemed to stretch on for ages. Remus could feel the tautness of the tension in the room.

Sirius took a deep, sharp breath. “Honestly, Dorcas, when I think about how my father was against equality, it is incredibly painful for me. I…I…I identify as queer, and I have my entire life.” Sirius paused to laugh nervously, wiping at a thin sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead. “Wow, this is hard to say out loud, you know? My father demanded that I stay in the closet so as to not ruin his political career, and I felt silenced by him and my family every day. It wasn’t fair. And the hateful laws that my father put forward, to keep same-sex couples from being able to adopt, or fighting against the right to get married, or just…keeping queer people from being able to celebrate their – _our_ – existence, weren’t fair either, and felt like public slaps in the face. I am running now and committing publicly to undoing every bit of legislation that my father pushed through Congress, his legacy be damned. I’m doing that for me, and for every person in Godric’s Hollow and beyond who was ever denied a right to live freely. I’m done living a secret – I’ve seen how good life can get when you speak out, and act bravely. That’s what this campaign is all about.”

Even though Remus had gone over these words with Sirius a dozen times, his heart still soared at watching Sirius fight through his clearly evident discomfort and profess his truth to an audience of fifty-something people, and television viewers everywhere in Godric’s Hollow. James reached his hand out and patted Remus on the knee approvingly. Peter grinned.

“Sirius, thank you, for sharing your story with the _On Air_ family,” Dorcas said with a broad, dazzling smile. “It means so much to me that you entrusted us with this.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to do it with such a charming host,” Sirius said, putting on his signature smile.

“It was a delight,” Dorcas said, shaking Sirius’s hand fondly. “A reminder to all that the Special Election is set for April 30. Thanks again for joining us, Sirius.” She turned to the cameras. “Stay tuned right after this commercial break for an interview with a local celebrity chef…”

Dorcas and Sirius exchanged fond farewells. Without thinking, Remus jumped up to the stage as soon as the cameras flicked off, James and Peter trailing him. Dorcas stepped down from the stage and towards the first row, right towards Marlene and Lily. Remus was dying to see this interaction take place, but Sirius was at the forefront of his mind.

“Great job, Sirius,” Peter said, reaching Sirius first.

“You were brilliant.” Remus agreed.

“They’re your beautiful words, Remus, I’m just the mouthpiece,” Sirius said, flushing slightly, as James slapped him on the shoulder. Remus was happy to see that Sirius’s angst from an hour ago seemed to have melted away. “What’s the news, Potter?”

“I mean,” James said, scrolling through his phone, “social media has been strangely alive and active for this hour of the morning. I didn’t expect any of this to really take off until the clips go viral later today, but you’re trending locally, Sirius.. People are incredibly supportive, for the most part. They’re also…er…very curious.”

They walked together towards the Annex and weaved through the bustling groups of show assistants.

“How so?” Remus raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“People are tagging Sirius’s account and asking him to go on dates with them. And a bunch of the local press outlets want to know if he’s currently seeing anyone.”

They all ducked into the dressing room once more to fetch their things and wait for Marlene and Lily to return.

“Oh?” Sirius asked, grinning cheekily. “Should I take any of them up on their offers? Anyone cute? I have a preference for dorky, six foot tall brunets with curly hair and freckles. Preferably former English majors.”

Remus rolled his eyes, trying to conceal the blush blooming on his cheeks.

“You’re not actually going to do it, Sirius?” Peter laughed.

“Why not?” James asked. “It’s not a terrible idea.”

“You actually think so?” Sirius said.

As the four of them headed into the Annex, James lowered his voice. “Well, I mean, statistics _do_ show that people are more likely to vote for someone in a relationship than someone who’s single. It raises polling numbers by up to five percentage points, sometimes. Look at Senator Booker with Rosario Dawson: not only are they a good-looking couple, but her being his girlfriend definitely boosted his numbers. Not saying that should be a deciding factor, but…”

Remus was strangely annoyed. “Well, good for you, Sirius, you can pick one of the Twitter randos and take them out on a couple of dates. It’ll be a nice, juicy piece of gossip for the Godric’s Hollow press. Maybe take them to that French brasserie on Ivy.”

“They’re got to be attractive enough for the press, though,” James said. “Someone nice and fresh, to make you seem relatable yet also boost your credibility.”

“Pick some random model,” Peter suggested.

“Oh, I won’t do _that_ ,” Sirius said loftily. “But James is right – maybe I should think about dating. Whatever helps the campaign, right?”

“Right. We’re all in this to do whatever it takes to get Sirius to win,” Peter announced.

“Anything at all,” James said.

“Right. Anything,” Remus repeated.

“ _Anything_ , Moony?” Sirius asked with a suddenly brilliant grin, and Remus felt as though he were walking straight off a cliff.

“Are you about to ask me to rob the Declaration of Independence with you, Sirius?” Remus asked, half-joking and half-suspicious.

“No,” Sirius said sincerely. His cheeks were oddly rosy. “Though not a terrible idea, honestly. I’ve been struck with a flash of genius.”

“And what’s that?”

“Go on a date with me. Or two. Or maybe…I don’t know. Pete, how many weeks are left ‘til the election?”

“Eight,” Peter said promptly.

Remus blinked at him. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Sirius looked devilish. “What do you think, Jamie boy? Wouldn’t Remus be a positive media darling? He’s talented, he’s handsome, he’s smarter than I could ever be, and he’s just what the doctor ordered.”

Remus’s mouth hung open. “So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

Sirius shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “Call it what you want. Potter? The verdict?”

James looked caught between his two friends, hemming and hawing in a very un-James-like way. “Well…I mean, it would…it wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing. And it’d only be for a month and a half, really. Just, you know, go to the events together and stuff. Be seen in public for a little bit.”

“James, you can’t be serious right now,” Remus said with an incredulous laugh. James looked guilty but did not take back any of his words.

Remus looked down at his phone. He had a message from Lily: “ _Have to run to work – Marlene staying to talk to Dorcas. Great job, Re. SOB wasn’t bad and I know that’s all u and Pete. And Potter, I guess. Love u._ ”

“You don’t have to do it, Remus,” James said lightly. Remus realized that Sirius and James had almost certainly talked about this before. There was no other reason why James would be so calm right now. Unless…unless James knew something that Remus did not, after all, and Remus refused to go there. 

“Right,” Sirius said. “Like James said, I can always, you know, get a few dates on Twitter. Draw up some publicity like that. Date one of those Instagram models that peddles fitness tea or something.”

Remus silenced the part of his brain that sounded like Lily, and looked into Sirius’s gray eyes. They were bright with hope. _Hope for what_ , Remus wanted to shout. What Remus wanted to do was sit and light a cigarette or two, make a list, weigh the pros, and the cons, and then come up with a deliberate statement. Another part of him screamed out that there was no time like the present and that it was time to think impulsively for once. And maybe he was setting himself up for failure, but some part of him could not resist wanting to have a piece of Sirius for himself even if it was just for the spectacle and fanfare. Even if it wasn’t actually real. He could imagine the conversation with Lily that they’d have to have at home, and the pang of heartbreak in just under two months, when this election would be over, Sirius would be (perhaps) on his way to Washington, and Remus would be stuck in a dead-end job in Godric’s Hollow or begging Dolores for his position back. But even with the weight of evidence against him, he could not resist tempting fate.

“Fuck it, why not,” Remus said once more, with the weight of famous last words on his tongue, and he reached out to shake Sirius’s hand.

Sirius shook his hand excitedly.

“This actually could work,” James said, sending off some emails with lightning speed.

“Shouldn’t he sign an NDA or something?” Peter asked suddenly. “Maybe we should ask Lily what she thinks.”

James glanced over at him. "As much as I enjoy bringing Evans into just about anything, Pete, I gotta say I disagree here."

“Right, do you think he’s going to tell everyone that we’re faking this?” Sirius scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Pettigrew. Are you going to tell anyone, Remus?”

“Solemnly swear that I won’t. Except for Lily, but she doesn't count.”

Peter looked sheepish and apologetic. James seemed satisfied. Sirius beamed at Remus in an open, puppy-like way. And Remus wondered whether this would be yet another decision that would one day come back to haunt him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to sound like a bit of a broken record at this point, but thank you to all of the comments, bookmarks, kudos, etc. Before writing this and GOFLB, I hadn't written fic in a long, long time, so this has been a leap of faith! It's nice to have people along for the ride :')


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ended up writing this and couldn't think of a valid reason to sit on it, so here you go! Consider this a Valentine's Day present, or something like that.

“Oh Re,” Lily said, clearly struggling hard to keep the judgment out of her voice and settling on a Professor McGonagall-level sternness instead, “you know this is a terrible idea. I don’t need to remind you that. So why’d you agree to it?”

Remus finished brushing his teeth and met Lily’s concerned, dark green eyes in the fissured bathroom mirror. She was wearing a fluffy, navy blue bathroom with a broad hood almost completely covered her dark red hair.

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively, trying to liven up his damp, light brown curls. “We both know it isn’t for real, it’ll help his campaign, and there aren’t really any downsides.”

“There aren’t any downsides?” Lily asked in disbelief. She moved to the side as Remus headed out of the bathroom and then followed him down the hallway to his room. “You can’t be serious right now.”

Remus tied his shoelaces together carefully. “I feel like you’re going to make me consider them anyways, so let them roll, Justice Evans.”

Lily began ticking things off her fingers and flipped her hood off so that her hair sprang forth from underneath. “First of all, Sirius is bad news. And the fact that he’s claiming to be a changed man doesn’t mean that he’s immature, emotionally stunted, and probably a playboy.”

“But he isn’t!” Remus said, feeling oddly defensive of Sirius. “Maybe during freshman year, but afterwards–”

“He still flirted with everyone!” Lily exclaimed. “Even when you both were together!”

“Oh that’s just…that’s who he is, it never meant anything serious,” Remus said wryly, remembering the half a dozen arguments that the two of them had had over this very aspect of Sirius’s personality.

“Right, well it’s different when all he does is flirt with you now. He’s clearly still into you, and I’m not convinced this little dating adventure is anything but some elaborate ruse to get you to spend time together alone, but how do you know that he’s not just trying to get you in bed and then break your heart again?” Lily demanded.

“How do you know that’s not all I want?” Remus asked loftily. He smoothed down his pants again and paced around his room, looking for his cell phone.

The two roommates met each other’s eyes. Remus shrank underneath Lily’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m kidding, Lils.”

“I know you are. And if that was really, truly all you wanted, I’d say fine. Go for it. But I know you, and how much you still care about him, and I know the very turbulent past that you two had, and I know how much you suffered when he called it quits. And I just can’t see this ending well for either of you. Especially for you.”

Remus was about to object to Lily opining so heavily and stepping into his personal life so unapologetically, but he could not do it in good faith. He owed Lily. She had been the omniscient, guiding presence in his life after Sirius had taken off and left everything feeling meaningless. It had been Lily who had talked Remus off the proverbial cliff. At a time when Remus felt as though he were stumbling through a labyrinth of futility, Lily had taken control. She had been the one who had suggested Remus and Lily be roommates in Godric’s Hollow, since Sirius was going off to D.C. and wouldn’t be around their college town anymore, and since she planned to remain as a paralegal until she applied to law school in a few years. Along with Marlene and Mary, she had done the bulk of the work finding this apartment and setting everything up. Remus would be loath to forget the hot, humid nights that summer, when Lily had stayed up with him until obscene hours listening to his despairing, inarticulate rambles about how living without Sirius was an eternal drought. No, he could not tell Lily to shove off, nor would he.

“I know and appreciate that you’re worried about me,” Remus said gently, rolling a tube of chapstick onto his mouth and sticking it in his back pocket. “But this is going to be okay. Really, Lily, I promise. My expectations are very low. James has very casually tipped off the press, and we’ll be seen in public a few times, and that’s it. After he wins – or loses, I suppose – we’ll ‘break it off amicably’ or whatever I’m supposed to say at that point.”

Lily opened her mouth to say something and then closed it softly. Remus could sense that Lily was not satisfied with his answer, but saw that Remus was being too stubborn to see reason. Even Remus realized that he was not acting particularly logically here, but tamped that down with vehemence.

“So that’s what happening this morning, then? A photocall?” Lily asked, giving him a funny look.

“Well, no, it’s not like we’re Harry and Meghan,” Remus said. He slipped on his dark green coat and once again cursed himself for not having more photogenic outfits. “It’s more like, we’re going to have breakfast at Fortescue’s and a couple of reporters and photographers will be outside.”

“I’m struggling to think of a world where Remus John Lupin actually agrees to taking photographs,” Lily scoffed.

Remus made a face. He could not deny that taking photos was one of his least favorite activities. “It’s ah…it’s a necessary sacrifice. But that doesn’t mean that I’m delighted about it. I just won’t look at the photographs after they’re taken, that’s all.”

Lily crossed her arms over her chest and shuffled to their kitchen wordlessly. Based on the crunching sounds of the coffee maker grinding beans, this conversation was over in Lily’s estimation. Remus glanced at his watch. Sirius was, as usual, several minutes late.

“Are you going to eat breakfast?” Remus called out diplomatically.

“Yeah, I’ll make some toast or something. Not all of us got invites to brunch,” Lily said wryly, pulling out a footstool to reach the highest cabinets.

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Remus had to resist the urge to rush to the door. He walked as leisurely as he could. Sirius was standing outside, wearing his beloved black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a snug cashmere sweater in the same shade of blue as Lily’s bathrobe. Remus briefly wondered whether Sirius was dressed nicely for the photographs or for him, before hating the fact that this even crossed his mind.

“Kind of cold for leather, isn’t it?” Remus asked, eyeing him.

“No such thing, Moony,” Sirius said with a toothy smile. “It’s already March. Winter’s over now. Get the memo.”

“You’re literally wearing a cashmere sweater.”

“Alright, no need to critique my fashion choices. James picked this one out, actually. Said it made me look respectable, or something. Anyways, you look great.” He eyes scanned downward and then up to meet Remus’s eyes.

“Oh this? Yeah I just wore whatever,” Remus replied casually, as though he had not spent three hours the night before digging out a heather gray sweater that Lily had gifted him a year and a half year ago and which he had never worn, as it seemed almost too nice to waste at work with Dolores, and a pair of dark pants that Sirius had once told him made his ass look good. Not that he expected him to say anything of the sorts now. Of course not.

“This is for Evans,” Sirius said, motioning towards the large plastic bag in his hands. “Prongs wanted to send her breakfast from The Three Broomsticks.”

Remus nodded and took the bag from him. The Three Broomsticks was a twenty-four-seven café near their office and James and Sirius’s shared apartment building, where James bought coffee at least four times a day. He smelled the sugary almond croissants and tart blueberry muffins inside.

“Lily,” Remus called out into the hallway. “There’s breakfast here for you.”

Lily popped out of the living room, coffee mug in hand, and frowned at Sirius. “Oh, hello, Black. You brought me breakfast?”

Sirius gave her a disarming smile. “I thought we were on a first-name basis at the very least.”

“Not a chance,” Lily said sweetly, eyeing the bag in Remus’s hands.

“Breakfast is from your suitor, a Messr. James Potter of 81 Islington Place, top floor,” Sirius said, tilting his dark, mirrored sunglasses down from the top of his hair onto his face.

Lily softened slightly as she took the bag, and Remus smirked. “Well. Thanks, I guess. I’ll send him a message thanking him too.”

“Can you hold off on that for a while? Otherwise he might just have a conniption, and I kind of want to focus on my hot date with Remus instead of having to rush him off to St. Mungo’s.”

“It’s not a hot date,” Remus protested half-heartedly. With a flash of nostalgia, he remembered his own first date with Sirius, when Sirius had taken him to a wildly expensive restaurant in Godric's Hollow, at the top of a skinny glass skyscraper downtown. Remus had spent the entire time wondering if Sirius was playing some sort of elaborate prank on him.

Sirius playfully put his hand over Remus’s mouth. “Don’t say that too loud. Bye, Evans.”

Remus waved goodbye at Lily, who shook her head back at him.

“How did you get here? The metro?” Remus asked, as the two of them headed up the street. He patted his pocket to make sure that his subway pass was in it.

Sirius paused. “Oh, no, I drove actually.”

“Since when do you drive?” Remus asked incredulously. Sirius had been so insistent about his refusal to learn how to drive throughout college; since Remus hated driving, it had usually been James and Peter who had driven from place to place when the Marauders had gone on road trips or driven around the state.

“Oh, I learned in D.C.,” Sirius said awkwardly, scratching at his leg. “Er, two years ago.”

“Why are you acting so weird about it?” Remus asked. The wind mussed his hair up, and he regretted not wearing a hat.

“It just feels weird talking about my time there, you know.”

“We can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen, it was a long three years, or something,” Remus said, self-consciously running a hand back through his hair.

Sirius stopped suddenly in front of a gleaming, black Mercedes-Benz that was parallel-parked rather sloppily next to the sidewalk. Remus looked at it skeptically as Sirius unlocked it.

“What’s wrong with my car?” He demanded, as Remus stood outside of it.

“I just can’t see you being able to drive, honestly,” Remus laughed. “Is it too late to call Stan?”

Sirius smirked. “I’m a good driver, Moony. Very gentle, and very flexible.”

Something about Sirius’s tone had the whiff of a double-entendre, and Remus ducked into the car so as to avoid the flush creeping up his cheeks. The inside of the car smelled like leather and cologne, but otherwise had no personal touches at all. It looked as though it had been driven straight off the lot and towards Remus’s apartment. Sirius turned his car on and the radio immediately switched on. The calm, steady voice of a radio talk show announcer enveloped them for a moment, until Sirius’s quickly changed the station to Godric’s Hollow’s classic rock.

“Don’t tell me you came out of D.C. with a penchant for NPR,” Remus said, half-sarcastically.

Sirius put his arm behind Remus’s headrest and backed carefully out of the space. He looked over at Remus briefly as they headed west, towards Fortescue’s.

“No,” Sirius said hotly, “I wanted to hear what they were saying about me.”

“Narcissist,” Remus teased. “So what’s the news?”

Sirius’s jaw twitched slightly as he stared straight ahead. “I mean, James knows the numbers better than I do. You know math was never really my strong suit. We’re ahead of Vance, at least, but behind Weasley, though the numbers are debatable on how many of those voters will actually come out and vote, and we’re also behind…”

“Not Malfoy,” Remus gaped. He could not believe that anyone in Godric’s Hollow would voluntarily vote for that smarmy, slimy real estate developer.

“My mother kindly informed me that the esteemed members of the Oak Club that we had our lovely dinner with donated two hundred grand or something to his campaign after my interview this week,” Sirius said tightly. “I’d be surprised they didn’t put that money towards Vance’s campaign, but they’re all misogynists too, most likely.”

“That’s awful,” Remus frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Sirius said breezily, flipping his sunglasses back up to the top of his head and turning to Remus at the red light. Remus could feel Sirius studying him in his peripheral vision, but turned decidedly away.

There were a few minutes of silence as Sirius drove smoothly down the streets of Godric’s Hollow.

“Do you really think…this…um…us doing this is going to change anything?” Remus asked suddenly.

“Well, the radio announcer seemed to think that I have an untapped potential for celebrity appeal and was interested to see whether I capitalized on it by being out – in every way – in society these days,” Sirius said with a quirk of his eyebrow. He seemed to be driving ridiculously cautiously, several miles per hour below the speed limit, both hands fastened carefully on the steering wheel. “So I think at the very least, we have a shot of drawing more attention to this campaign, and hopefully we can lure voters away from all sides. That Weasley fellow is pretty attractive to the far-left, but James thinks that maybe we can conquer the center-left. Also, the rise in publicity for us will hurt the Vance campaign – James has insight into their financials and it’s not looking good for them.”

“Oh. Okay, well, that’s good, I’m glad this is helping,” Remus said, suddenly wishing that James were there to simultaneously impress and annoy them with his ability to rattle off the numbers and percentage points at the drop of a hat. “But I’ve got to admit,” he said, “I’ve never been anyone’s media boyfriend before.”

“You think I have?” Sirius snickered. “I may have been my father’s – rot in hell, you bastard – media darling child, but this isn’t that by a long shot. First of all, I hated my father and it was hard to pretend that I didn’t.”

“Well, good to know you don’t hate me,” Remus said absentmindedly.

“I could never hate you,” Sirius said, parking his Mercedes a block away from Fortescue’s with a precision that had clearly been lacking when he had driven to Remus’s house. He seemed hellbent on impressing Remus with his driving abilities, and for some reason that alone made Remus’s heart skip.

Sirius turned to Remus. “I’m grateful you’re doing this, even if you hate me.”

Remus was surprised. “I don’t hate you.”

“Past tense, then.”

“I’ve never hated you, Sirius.”

“You would’ve been smart to do so, mind you,” Sirius sighed.

Remus changed the subject quickly. “I think we should set up some ground rules.”

Sirius looked amused. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Remus said firmly, remembering Lily’s words that morning. “Rule number one is no kissing in front of the cameras.”

“What about when the cameras are switched off?” Sirius asked innocently, but his smile was brazen.

Remus ignored the impish look on his face and turned to face him more deliberately. “Rule number two is that if you’re going to go and start dating anyone, um, for real, then you can’t do it openly. Otherwise, you’re going to look like a scoundrel and I’m going to look like an idiot.”

Sirius pursed his lips together. “First of all, I am a scoundrel but I’m not a cheat. Second of all, I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“Really now?” Remus asked carelessly. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m with you,” Sirius said, as though Remus were missing an obvious point.

“You’re not actually dating me though,” Remus clarified, feeling foolishly warm despite the chilly March weather. “This is just for publicity.”

“Of course it is,” Sirius said, seemingly undeterred. “How do you feel about holding hands?”

Remus laughed, despite the swoop in his stomach. “Don’t fuck with – oh, you’re serious, then?” He said, looking at Sirius, who had an earnest expression painted on his face.

“I mean, it’ll be sort of hard to sell this, Remus, if you don’t want to touch me with a thirty five and a half foot pole.”

“Fine. Fine. Fine, we can…hold hands,” Remus said, feeling very hot underneath his collar.

“Good. So let’s go, James told the press to be here around eleven and it’s already eight past that,” he said, glancing at the clock built into the Mercedes and then turning off his car. He gallantly rushed to the other side and let Remus out. He rolled his eyes at him good-naturedly. Remus stuck his hands into his coat pockets, but Sirius pulled his right hand out and laced his fingers through it. Muscle memory got the better of Remus, and he found his hand softening in Sirius’s clasp. He hated himself for it.

They headed off into the direction of Fortescue’s, keenly aware of the gaggle of Godric’s Hollow photographers and reporters clustered outside. Remus tensed as the cameras began clicking, first slowly and then seemingly all at once. Sirius marched towards the reporters with a haughty, determined look on his face, which softened as Remus squeezed his hand absentmindedly. Muscle memory – that was all.

“Hi all, good morning,” Sirius said, taking off his sunglasses with his free hand. He stood up straighter, and the angles of his body suddenly became sharper as he faced them.

“Mr. Black, Xenophilius Lovegood for the Godric’s Gazette,” said a tall man with long, platinum hair. “What do you say to Charlie Weasley’s comments yesterday commending you on your bravery for standing up to your family but encouraging voters who identify as LGBTQ to remember that representative politics can only take them so far?”

“I’d thank Mr. Weasley for his kind words and ask voters of every sexuality or gender identity to consider voting for me because of my policy positions, but also recognize the possibility of making a new sort of history in Congress, something that Mr. Weasley is deliberately trying to play down to benefit himself,” Sirius said coolly, and Remus felt oddly proud hearing his own words flow from Sirius’s mouth.

“Barry Cuffe, The Prophet,” a gray-haired man with a notepad and a camera introduced himself. “Who’s your…er…companion?”

“My boyfriend?” Sirius asked. Subtly, he pulled Remus closer to him. He looked as though he were challenging them to say anything.

The group sized Remus up. Remus stared back at them, stiffening slightly. “My name is Remus.”

“Remus what?” A reporter called out, scribbling furiously. “And can you spell that? First and last name too?”

“What are you trying to do, commit identity theft? You want his social security number next?” Sirius snickered.

Lovegood laughed loudly, and the rest of the group followed suit. Remus relaxed.

“Do you have any comments on your relationship?”

“Not at this time, thanks,” Sirius said coyly, swinging Remus’s hand and his own. “We’re going to have breakfast now. Have a good Saturday. Vote for me.” As they turned away towards the restaurant, Remus felt Sirius’s hand in the back pocket of his pants and resisted the urge to slap his hand away. Sirius grinned at him appreciatively.

“Don’t you think you should be nicer to them?”

“Not particularly,” Sirius said. “It’s better to keep them guessing. Not too standoffish, but not willing to give them all of my answers. I did that for Dorcas because I actually, genuinely like her and because it’s a different ballgame we were playing altogether there.”

“You might have to fight Marlene for her affections – they had their first date last night.”

Sirius opened the door to Fortescue’s. “You did great, though.”

“Oh, shut up. They’ll figure out who I am eventually. And don’t you think they’ll have questions about why your boyfriend is out here writing your speeches for you?”

“Nah,” Sirius said, gray eyes sparkling. “You can’t argue with your talent. I’ll tell everyone your words make me weak in the knees, and that’s the kind of language I wanted on my campaign.” They walked into the restaurant, which was packed with couples and families feasting on Fortescue’s legendary breakfast.

Florean Fortescue himself greeted Sirius at the door. He was a round-bellied, pleasant-faced man whose family had owned the business for fifty-odd years. He was a great-uncle to their friend and classmate, Alice, who had just returned from her honeymoon that week.

“Mr. Black, and Mr. Lupin, it’s a pleasure having you join us for breakfast,” Florean smiled from ear to ear. The mirrored walls and bright lights intensified the ruddiness of his cheeks.

“Hi there, Florean, nice to see you,” Sirius said cheerfully, his pretenses with the media dropped quickly.

“Sirius and Remus will do, Florean,” Remus added.

Sirius looked very much at ease. Breakfast at Fortescue’s, a reservation-once breakfast place whose fame for buttermilk waffles and chocolate-chip pancakes had only escalated over the last ten or fifteen years, had been one of his favorite traditions. Uncle Alphard had been a loyal patron of the place and was fond of bringing his nephew there with him. Sirius had continued his legacy even after his death. The Marauders had come here every few weeks when they were in college, and sometimes Sirius and Remus breakfasted alone. Remus had not returned since his senior year – he had neither wanted to go anywhere that reminded him of Sirius, nor wanted to wait for a reservation to open up.

“How’s the business doing?” Sirius asked, as Florean walked them to their seats. They were seated right in front of the large window and looked out into the sidewalk, where the photographers were still trying to snap pictures of them.

“Well, you know, it’s hard when so many of the people I started off with have had to close their businesses because of the rents,” Florean sighed. “But otherwise, business has never been better. Lots of people, as you can see, so I’m grateful. How goes the campaign?”

Sirius smiled jauntily. “It’s great. I’m the resident LGBTQ candidate now, I don’t know if you saw.”

“I know you are,” Florean said with a great, big belly laugh. “You forget that I knew you during college, and Remus too.”

Remus flushed furiously. He did not want to think of what they had subjected poor Florean to seeing during their mildly reckless collegiate years.

“I’ll let you have your breakfasts in peace,” Florean said warmly. “But it’s nice to see you both again. Welcome back.”

Their voices rang out with thanks. Sirius looked at Remus over the menu that Remus was diligently studying.

“You want your usual?” Sirius asked brightly.

“No,” Remus said, sticking his chin out in the air. The truth was that he would do just about anything for one of Florean’s buttermilk pancakes, but was reluctant to prove to Sirius that startlingly little had changed since the last time that they had been here. “I’m changing up my routine.”

Sirius looked at him skeptically. “Actually?”

Remus squirmed in his seat. “No. You’re right. I want the usual.”

Sirius laughed loudly, and it was rich and warm, like the maple syrup that Fortescue’s imported from their Canadian family members. He looked at Remus affectionately, with a heart-stoppering grin. “You’re funny.”

“I’m really not,” Remus shot back.

“And you’re smart as hell,” Sirius said, leaning in.

“Well, I can’t deny that,” Remus said.

Sirius lowered his voice conspiratorially and leaned in until he was only a few inches from Remus’s. “And your ass looks hot in those pants.”

Remus leaned away abruptly, his face reddening. “Shut up. You’re playing this up for the cameras.”

“I just like watching you blush. It’s cute,” Sirius said, calling over the sunny-looking, brunette waitress to place their orders. Remus was glad Sirius ordered for both of them, as he was not sure whether he still had the ability to make any sort of words. She brought them a pitcher of mimosas – on the house, courtesy of Florean – and poured their drinks into skinny champagne flutes.

“Cheers, to this campaign,” Remus said, lifting his glass to toast.

“And to us,” Sirius said, gently tapping his glass against Remus’s and tipping the mimosa down his throat. Remus drank his own in one fluid motion, drowning the warnings against drinking on an empty stomach and almost enjoying the burn of champagne in his mouth.

“I want you to tell me about your life down in D.C.,” Remus said boldly, after they had both moved onto their second mimosas.

“Wow, we’re really diving head-first into the good shit on this first date, huh?”

“I’m serious.”

“No, I’m Sirius.”

Remus looked at him plainly.

Sirius seemed uncomfortable, and topped off his mimosa. “There’s nothing really to tell,” he said flatly. “I worked for Lestrange and hated it. James was working on some Congressional policy team running data and analytics.”

“That’s all you did?” Remus pressed.

“I spent a lot of time with James. We joined a Congressional staff soccer team and were loads better than everyone there, so we quit and started playing with a bunch of hotshot corporate lawyers, and then we were really better than everyone, so we quit and took up tennis.”

Remus burst out laughing. “Why?”

“Because we both suck? So at least it was interesting,” Sirius said, smiling at the memory.

“I just find it hard to believe that you didn’t do anything else in D.C. for three years,” Remus said, and he was not quite sure why he was so determined to figure out what Sirius had done over the last few years all of a sudden.

“Well,” Sirius said carefully, tracing out a pattern in the peach-colored tablecloth, “I learned how to drive, as you can see, and bought my car, as you can also see.”

“Did you date anyone while you were there?” Remus asked bluntly.

“Not really,” Sirius said flatly. “I did sleep with like three girls while I was there. That was in the first year I was there.”

Remus flinched. Sirius back-tracked his words immediately.

“Sorry. Shit. Shit. Sorry. That was probably a little too honest, huh?”

“No, no,” Remus said dismissively. He finished off his mimosa quickly and then poured himself another. The good-looking waitress, whose nametag indicated her name was Rosmerta, refilled their pitcher for them. He wondered if he was destined to become drunk every time that he and Sirius were alone together. It certainly made everything seem easier, at the very least, and made the falling sensation of losing control – something was almost a guarantee when Sirius was around – feel less frightening.

“Did you? Date anyone, I mean,” Sirius asked.

Remus thought briefly about whether to lie and make up some dramatic story just to get Sirius annoyed, but realized that he had nothing to prove.

“I didn’t. I went on a couple dates, but nothing serious at all. I spent most of my time with the girls, Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Alice, and at work.”

“Oh, that’s good. That’s good about spending time with your friends. But I mean, not good, because you were and still are too good for your job,” Sirius added quickly. “So what were the guys like?”

Remus’s voice was dry. “They were all European supermodels with doctorates from the Sorbonne. Do you actually care?”

“Well, of course I do. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

“I’d like to be. You’ve seemed to indicate that you’re okay with being friends, at the least. Or at least…good enough friends to pretend to be more than friends.”

“What really happened in D.C.?” Remus asked, shifting suddenly. He was following a hunch all the way down the rabbit hole and hoping it led him to Wonderland instead of down to Dante’s Inferno.

“Nothing happened, Moony,” Sirius said, tying his hair back flippantly.

“You came back from there different. True?”

Sirius tilted his head to one side, then to the other, as though he were getting water out of his ears. “True. Did you learn cross-examinations from Evans?”

“There must have been a reason. Come on, I thought you and I had no secrets left,” Remus said, carefully omitting the fact that he was holding onto the secret that he might still be in love with Sirius and refused to acknowledge it.

Sirius’s voice was intentionally even. “Well, I tried to take control of my life back. I stopped talking to my father. My mother too, for the most part. And, I had a lot of long conversations with James. Honestly, that was kind of the worst time of my whole life.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, running his hand over his hair and looking up at the mirrored ceiling. “I was really fucking depressed. Everything was just so miserable, and I felt so trapped. Regulus hated me – and probably still does, he hasn’t talked to me in months. Our friends hated me. And you hated me. And I hated me. So that was rock bottom.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Remus said, genuinely, and he leaned over to touch Sirius’s hand. Sirius turned his hand so the palm faced up, and clasped Remus’s hand with a bittersweet smile.

“It’s okay,” Sirius said, just as genuinely. “It got better. Really, it’s all James.”

“But it was you too,” Remus said gently. “You helped yourself.”

“I guess so,” Sirius said, putting on a brave smile that did not quite reach his eyes. 

Rosmerta interrupted the moment. She brought Sirius his Eggs Benedict with toast, and Remus his fluffy, buttermilk pancakes. They both thanked her enthusiastically.

Remus experienced, in the midst of a mimosa-induced haze, a jolt of realization. This Sirius, this version of him at least, was not the same person Remus had expected when he had first stumbled into the brasserie a few weeks ago. He had expected the grown-up version of Sirius to be much like the twenty-one-year-old version of him had been – reckless, fun-loving, proud, complicated, and exceptionally good at hiding his true feelings. Traces of that old Sirius were still everywhere, in the haughty way that Sirius carried himself in public with people he did not know, the unapologetically expensive taste he had, the dashing good looks, the ability to code-switch for a group of rich donors, the evasiveness with certain topics. Yet this version of Sirius was softer around the edges, a little less sure of himself, a little more willing to let people see behind the façade. Or maybe, Remus thought with a shot of clarity, he was just more willing to let Remus see behind the mask. He had a front-row seat to Achilles’ humanness, rather than the deity behind him.

But still, Remus reminded himself with a scolding tone, that didn’t necessarily mean that Sirius was that far removed from the person that he had once been. It also did not mean that this version of Sirius did not possess the capacity to destroy Remus a second time around. Remus shook the thoughts out of his head and switched tracks altogether.

“Have you talked to Regulus recently?”

Sirius made a face as he cut up a piece of his food. “I think he’s been talking to my mother a lot. So he refuses to talk to me, especially after this week, I’m sure. I really fucked up the family name, or trust, or whatever.”

“You brought more honor to your family name than anyone else has in a long time,” Remus said sharply.

“You’re too good for me,” Sirius said simply. “You’ve always been.”

The two of them ate in near-silence for a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be driving home?” Remus asked, feeling mildly dizzy but also strangely content, as Sirius poured himself another mimosa.

Sirius shrugged and shot him a smile. “I’ll take a taxi and get one for you and come back for my car at some point. Or I’ll send Pete to get it, I don’t know.”

The answer was so outrageously careless and Sirius-like, that Remus couldn’t resist smiling back at him.

“How are the eggs?”

“Delicious. Do you want some? Can I feed you? The reporters will go crazy if I do.”

Remus peered out the window. “I think they’re pretty much gone, actually. Off to publish stories about how I’m a heathen and not good enough for the black sheep of the Black family, or else vilify you for corrupting a nice, small-town boy and bringing him onto your whimsical campaign.”

“Oh,” Sirius said, looking mildly disappointed. “Can I still give you the eggs anyways?”

Remus laughed and swiped the fork out of his Sirius’s hand. The eggs were, as Sirius had promised, perfectly cooked. “Wow, these are good.”

Sirius began poking around on Remus’s plate for the remnants of the buttermilk pancakes. It was almost unbelievable to think how easily they slipped back into their old routines and their old habits. It could have easily been their junior or senior year of college, Remus mused, and they would’ve been heading back to St. Godric’s in a while to do homework or nothing at all.

“I have a question for you. More like a proposition, actually,” Sirius said. “Not that I’m trying to proposition you. But I mean, if you’re down,” he added slyly.

Remus flushed. “That’s not one of the ground rules.”

“It could be,” Sirius said with a dark, charming look.

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Oh, alright, you killjoy. I’ll make it worth your while, though.”

“That would be a terrible idea.”

“I think it’d be sort of fun,” Sirius said idly. “What do you say?”

“So what’s the question?” Remus demanded, hating the fact that he was suddenly very warm.

“What are your plans for next week?”

Remus thought hard for a moment. “I mean, it’s going to be a busy week. You have a radio interview on Monday for WHGH, but I already wrote that, then a fundraiser with small business owners of St. Godric’s where you’re sort of gonna have to give me ideas because you and I have very different tastes in small businesses, and then you’re reading to the kids at the library – ugh, Dolores – on Tuesday morning and on Tuesday afternoon you have that luncheon with community volunteers who work to assist people experiencing homelessness and affordable housing activists, but I wrote you something for that too, and then Wednesday we have that breakfast fundraiser for wounded veterans – it’s been hard to think of an angle there, but I’ll get to it – and an event with that think tank for environmental justice and climate change…”

“Wow, this sounds like a miserable week,” Sirius said honestly. “Fuck my life. But I meant Saturday. What are your plans then?”

Remus blinked at him. “We don’t have anything for Saturday. Do you want me to get James or someone to put something on the schedule?”

Sirius grinned. “Your birthday is on Saturday.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Remus realized. “Wow. Well, anyways, do you want to schedule something for the campaign or…”

“I was thinking of hosting you a party,” Sirius said slowly. “At my apartment. Make it a big blowout bash, something for the ages.”

Remus normally hated making a big to-do out of his birthday. It had always felt so artificial, to the point of painful. But the idea of throwing big, Marauders-style party after so many years without one seemed to quench Remus’s thirst in a way that nothing else had.

“So who would we invite?” Remus asked, warming up to Sirius’s idea.

“Oh, you know, our friends, most of our class at St. Godric’s, the young professionals and graduate students on our mailing list, you know, keep it small.” Sirius’s voice was lilting.

“Sirius Black, you asshole, are you using my birthday as an excuse to fundraise?”

“Are you mad about it? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want,” Sirius said.

“No, no, let’s do it. I was just thinking that as my…” Remus snorted, looked around, and then made dramatic air quotes. “…boyfriend, you had to do something special and private for my birthday. You know. As you’re supposed to do.”

Sirius looked positively wolfish. “Well, Moony, don’t ruin my surprises for the after-party.”

“You know, you shouldn’t call me that anymore,” Remus said, looking down at the tablecloth.

“Why?” Sirius said, looking mildly dejected.

Remus was embarrassed. “Well, because…it’s not like Prongs, that’s a dumb nickname that everyone knows. Moony is sort of a pet name, you know, from back when we were dating.”

“We can come up with another meaning behind it, you know, to separate it from the original meaning. I’ll pretend you’re a werewolf or something and have the hots for the full moon.”

Remus burst out laughing. “I’m about ninety percent sure that’s not what happens to werewolves, asshole.”

Sirius waved his hand dismissively.

“I’m not kidding, though. It’s not fair of you to use it when we’re not actually…you know.”

Sirius stared moodily out the window. “Yeah, I know. Guess you’re right.”

Resisting the urge to shout at Sirius about why it was his fault in the first place that they were broken up, Remus poked him with the dull side of the fork.

“Cheer up, Sirius. If the press shows up, they’ll start speculating that we broke up over breakfast. And we can’t do give that reputation to Fortescue’s pancakes. It's just not fair. Now, tell me more about my birthday.”


	8. Chapter 8

Remus had been raised in a town so unremarkable that it might have stumped a _Jeopardy!_ contestant, by a mother who had loved him until her untimely death during his teenage years and a father who had been consumed by bitterness after his stint in one of many wars. When his mother had been alive, Remus had been small and protected enough to not notice the strain of poverty on his family’s finances, or the sudden and vicious temper tantrums of Lyall Lupin. He had read, and laughed, and enjoyed most of his childhood without thinking much of money at all. After Hope died, it was as though a semi-opaque veil had been plucked off Remus’s head. Lyall constantly bemoaned his lack of money and Remus’s inability to help support the family, though Lyall spent a good deal of the weekly budget playing poker with the guys he worked with down by the shipyard. As a result, Remus learned to be constantly conscious of money. In fact, he had almost not submitted the application for St. Godric’s because he did not want to spare the $85 that it would have cost. Luckily, Ms. Pomfrey, his beloved high school English teacher, had spotted him the money. She was perhaps the only reason that he had been able to attend St. Godric’s, one of the most prestigious universities in the country, on a full scholarship. He had arrived at St. Godric’s, a place that he had only seen in catalogues and online, with a battered suitcase full of books, a duffel bag stuffed with clothes, and a fierce and unrelenting determination to never return to his hometown again.

During Remus’s early days at St. Godric’s, when he was still riddled with imposter syndrome and tormented by the thoughts of not belonging, he had been both amazed and horrified by how easily James and Sirius (and even Peter, most of the time) talked about money. It was bizarre to him how all four of them, his three roommates and himself, cohabitated in the same room and yet seemed to have been born and raised in completely different planets. St. Godric’s was the sort of place where people did not live in off-campus apartments, and everyone was stuck in the shoebox dormitories, but even with that supposed equality, it was easy to feel like the outlier among Remus’s roommates.

There was James Potter, of course, who had attended a prestigious boarding school and who had played soccer (or football, as he said with just the faintest hint of a British accent) from what seemed like the beginning of his life. During his first conversation with Remus, James had spent twenty minutes boasting about how many Chelsea Football Club matches he had attended with his father, who owned two season passes despite living across the ocean from the stadium that their team called home. Remus learned quickly that James was the spoiled only child of two talented, well-to-do professors who had immigrated to the United States from their homeland of India to accept prestigious teaching and research positions. His father was an esteemed biochemist, and his mother had been a dynamic force in the field of classics before she decided to devote herself to raising James and writing books from their large, colonial-style New England home. James had grown up surrounded by the intelligentsia, many of whom treated James as one of their own children. He had never been short on money, or on love, two things that had been painfully rationed through a good chunk of Remus’s foundational years.

Peter Pettigrew was solidly upper-middle-class, though he either was shy about his parents’ money or boasted of being raised far more lavishly than he actually had been. He and his two sisters had been raised all over the place – California for a while, then Cleveland, before ending up in Tampa, Florida, where his parents still lived and where Peter had finished his junior and senior years of high school. Peter talked often about trips to the warm, tropical places that his parents favored on their family vacations. Remus had met them just once during Freshmen Parents’ Weekend, one of the most miserable times of Remus’s four years at St. Godric’s. His father was a smooth-talking criminal defense attorney and his mother was a pediatrician. Mr. Pettigrew had his son’s thick, blonde hair and none of Peter’s self-consciousness. Mrs. Pettigrew had a cropped platinum bob and a penchant for telling long, drawn-out stories that was rather similar to Peter.

And then, of course, there was Sirius Black, who belonged to one of the most infamous and wealthiest aristocratic-adjacent families in Godric’s Hollow, a fact that had been drilled into Remus’s head by the tour guide on his first-ever tour of the grounds. Sirius was fabulously, despicably, maddeningly wealthy, and yet chose to display it in curious ways. James talked about the soccer memorabilia and matches that he had attended, and hung up pictures of his parents in the beautiful, sumptuously-decorated Potter home around the dorm, and Peter often alluded to trips in places that Remus could not pronounce (though Sirius, with his perfect French that rolled off the tongue, usually beat Peter to naming the places). This, Remus understood and almost appreciated. Wealthy people had nice houses, picked up hobbies that required money, traveled exotically. But Sirius had strange habits – he enjoyed cheap wine as much as elegant French bottles, and ordinary sneakers as much as expensive shoes. Still, Sirius loved extravagance and fine craftsmanship, and was willing to shell out the money for it. In their senior year, Sirius had dished out a ridiculous amount of money on a beautiful cashmere sweater for Remus’s twenty-first birthday.

“There was really no need, Sirius,” Remus had pleaded.

“But I wanted to.”

“You have such a soft spot for buying pretty things,” Remus had teased, folding the sweater carefully back into its box.

Sirius had leaned down to kiss him gently on the forehead. “I have a soft spot for you.”

***

Remus was set to have his Seventies-themed twenty-fifth birthday party, and Sirius was set to schmooze and subtly fundraise with two hundred of Godric’s Hollow’s young professionals and graduate students, in Sirius and James’s spectacular apartment. They had returned to Godric’s Hollow after their stint in D.C. and rented an apartment at 81 Islington Place, on what was almost the top floor and which Sirius often stubbornly referred to as the top floor anyways (it was rumored that the penthouse suite belonged to a millionaire financier and his girlfriend, who was in tech). While the posh old money families of Godric’s Hollow may have looked down upon Islington Place, the truth was that many of their children fought to get apartments in the cluster of high-rise buildings that made up the address. Remus had been to the apartment just twice since Sirius had returned from D.C., and had been stunned by the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over all of Godric’s Hollow, the wraparound balcony that surrounded the perimeter of the building, and the amenities, which included a pool in the building and a kind doorman who staffed the front desk every day, twenty-four-seven. The entire building was sleek, silver, marble, full of lavish textures. 

Remus was not much of a party-goer and even less of a party-thrower, but Sirius’s excitement was contagious, and as the days led up to the Saturday of Remus’s birthday, he felt himself actually looking forward to the celebration. Remus cared about exactly two things – the cake (a lavish German chocolate, baked by Fortescue’s), and the music (heavy on the Seventies that Remus adored and Sirius teased him about relentlessly, with dashes of the Sixties and Eighties to fill up a long playlist that Remus had painstakingly curated and James had vetted). Everything else – the guest list, the snacks, the drinks – had been left in the hands of Sirius, James, and Peter, who kept whispering about the party when they were supposed to be working or planning for future events. Sirius, of course, had an outrageous budget for the event that he planned to pay out of his own pocket. He spared no expense even in the midst of Remus’s protests, claiming that this would be a reflection of his own campaign.

Despite his mild embarrassment at Sirius dishing out so much money on his behalf, Remus could not blame the rest of the Marauders for their eagerness to blow off some steam. They had had a successful week on the campaign, after all. Sirius’s interview with Dorcas had suddenly led to a sharp increase in his popularity, particularly among younger and more progressive wings of the Godric’s Hollow voting pool. As a result, there was press and media at all of the events that he had attended, and great interest in his relationship with Remus. Yes, Remus still found it curious to find Sirius holding his hand at unexpected moments, but he got a sharp thrill out of it as well, one that he was quick to play down with Lily when she asked him about how their staged relationship was going. The truth was that he enjoyed this little ploy. He liked holding Sirius’s hand. He liked the light touches between them. He liked spending time with Sirius, and pretending to date him gave them good excuses to spend time alone. Just that Thursday, they had finally made it to that French brasserie on Ivy, the site where Peter had betrayed him all those weeks ago, and had a long conversation about Regulus, who kept calling him and leaving voice messages where he asked him to reconsider what he was doing. Even though Sirius was downcast about his brother and perhaps more upset than he let on, there was a lot to be happy about. The polls looked good and there were rumors that Emmeline Vance would soon bow out of the race and be appointed to the Governor’s Committee on Small Businesses instead. And of course, there was Remus’s birthday party.

On the night of the party, Remus showed up half an hour before the festivities were about to start, Lily and Mary by his side.

“I still can’t believe you’re letting Sirius throw you a birthday party,” Lily said, rolling her eyes as she, Mary, and Remus stepped into the elevator that would drop them at Sirius and James’s doorstep. “You didn’t even let _me_ throw you one last year.”

“Well, you’re not dating him, Lils,” Mary said loftily, fixing her long braids in the mirrored elevator doors as they zoomed upwards. Remus stared at their reflections. Mary was wearing a sleek burgundy dress, made of what looked to be crushed velvet. She looked like she had walked straight off the runway. Lily looked fantastic too, with a black mini-skirt and sleeveless turtleneck that somehow straddled the line between modern and vintage, coupled with a pair of boots. Her hair was piled on top of her head. He gave himself a brief glance. They had both managed to coax Remus into a pair of plaid pants and a tight-fitting black sweater. He desperately missed his heavy, overly large cardigans and slacks. “I can’t believe the two of you got back together.”

“Right,” Remus said uneasily. “Me either, sometimes.”

One of the unfortunate parts about pretending to date Sirius was that he could not afford to tell everyone that it was a lie – only Lily, James, and Peter knew the truth. Mary, Marlene, Alice, and Frank thought that they were genuinely back together. Remus had almost told Marlene, after she had chewed him out viciously for getting back together with Sirius in the first place. But Marlene was a gossip sometimes, and now that she was dating Dorcas (though she claimed that she would not reveal any campaign secrets to her television host girlfriend), Remus had worried where her words might lead.

“Is there press here?” Mary asked as the elevator dinged. “I told Rupert that there would be.”

Lily and Remus gave each other the same skeptical look. Mary and Rupert, the boss that she had insisted was definitely not interested in her, had certainly upped their flirtations. He had secured an invitation to the party, and Mary was particularly eager that the night go well.

“Yeah,” Remus said as they walked down the cool, dim hallway leading to Sirius and James’s apartment. “They’ll be here for the first hour. A cocktail hour, if you will, just to talk to Sirius and see the inside of his apartment and all that. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“You know, if you marry Sirius one day, your whole life will be cocktail hours and absurd social events,” Mary sing-songed. Remus was not sure whether he was more annoyed that she was right or that his heart did something quite funny when he thought of marrying Sirius.

The apartment was already quite noisy and bright, thanks to a colorful disco ball and various multi-colored lights set up throughout the foyer and living space. Everything was set up for the party to begin – the furniture had been moved against the wall to make space for an impromptu dance floor, and a portable bar was set up in the kitchen. Balloons and streamers covered almost every empty square inch of their living room, save for the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out at Godric’s Hollow and the door that led out to the balcony.

“Mary, hello! Happy birthday, Remus!” James cheered as they walked through Sirius’s open door. He was talking to one of the bartenders that they had hired for the night. He was wearing a crimson, collared polo shirt with gaudy yellow stripes on it. He grabbed Remus and patted him on the back solidly. “Don’t you feel old? Quarter-century club and all that jazz. Many happy returns, mate.”

“Thanks, James.”

“No problem. I bought you a present, er, it’s sort of a present for you _and_ Evans. It’s a record.”

Remus grinned at him. James gave him a delighted smile that seemed to show off all of his teeth. He then turned to face Lily, and his already-bright smile seemed to glow.

“Way to ruin the surprise for Remus,” Lily snickered. “Clearly, you have a hard time keeping your mouth shut.”

“What can I say? You leave me open-mouthed every time. You look gorgeous, Evans. Like you walked straight out of the Seventies and into my life.”

Lily rolled her eyes in an attempt to hide the smile. “And you look like Ronald McDonald, Potter. Where’d you get the shirt?”

Mary and Remus laughed. James looked down at his shirt.

“My mum and dad sent me this! It’s a real, genuine shirt from 1977. It used to be the style back in the days.”

“I think it looks interesting,” Remus said encouragingly. “Really strange print, but very cool.”

“Don’t be too nice to him. Aren’t we all grateful that those clothes went out of fashion? ” A smooth voice said from behind them. Sirius had his arms full of black and gold balloons, which he launched up into the air until they hit the high ceilings of the apartment. Sirius met Remus’s eyes, and his entire face lit up. He threw himself into Remus’s arms, until all Remus could smell was his aftershave and his shampoo and a faint whiff of cigarette smoke.

“Happy birthday, Moony,” Sirius whispered in his ear, and Remus was too intoxicated by the feeling of Sirius in his arms to remind him that he had agreed not to use that particular pet name anymore.

Mary squealed as Sirius made exaggerating kissing noises on Remus’s cheek. Remus laughed and tried to shove him off. “Get off each other, ohmigosh. When Rupert’s here–”

“No one is going to embarrass you when your boss is here, calm down,” Sirius said with a trace of amusement in his voice.

“How do you even know who Rupert is?” Mary asked, looking at Remus suspiciously. Remus smiled back.

“Guilty as charged.”

“How d’you think he got an invite? You’re lucky Remus advocated for him,” Sirius said, running his hands through his hair. Now that he had stepped back, Remus could fully appreciate his outfit – and what an outfit it was. Sirius was wearing tight black pants and a tee-shirt with the cover of Bowie’s _Aladdin Sane_ on it.

“Don’t you think you’ll be giving the press a little bit of a show with that outfit?” Remus said meaningfully, looking at Sirius’s pants.

Sirius smiled toothily. “Do you like the pants? I ordered them online.”

Remus felt himself getting warm. “Well, it’s not that I _don’t_ like it, I just feel like maybe you should dress a little more…”

“Live a little, Re,” James said, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“You, James Potter, the person who plans out our breakfasts three days in advance, want me to go easy with this campaign?” Remus asked skeptically.

James lowered his voice so Sirius wouldn’t overhear. “Trust me, I had the interns run the number and it’s good if Sirius leans into this persona for a little. And then next week, during the debate, we dress him super posh and go to town on the facts.”

“Now that’s the James I know and love.”

“Hi, I’m here, sorry we’re late, I know we said we were gathering half an hour before this thing started,” Marlene said, bursting through the door of the apartment with Dorcas on her arm. “We got a little carried away.”

The friends exchanged greetings merrily and welcomed Dorcas to their little group.

“Clearly,” Sirius said, jutting his chin at Marlene’s neck, which was partially covered with pink lipstick marks.

“Oops.” Marlene swiped at her neck.

“Happy birthday, Remus,” Dorcas said sweetly, handing him a gift bag. “I remember when I was twenty-five. Good days, for the most part.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Marlene snorted, taking Dorcas’s hand. “She’s four years older and talks like she’s got a century on us. But happy birthday, Re.” She leaned over and kissed Remus on the cheek. Remus was certain that he had dark red lipstick on his face.

“Easy now,” Sirius said, bumping Marlene out of the way with a mock-annoyed expression and wiping at Remus’s face gently. “What will the reporters say? That Remus is cheating on me with you, the girlfriend of the best host on television?”

Dorcas shook her head. “Y’all are too kind to me. But at least I beat out Rita Skeeter.”

“I still can’t believe James made me announce this campaign on her show,” Sirius said with a scoff.

James looked irritated. “The numbers said –”

“Prongs,” Remus said kindly, “maybe not today.”

Sirius looked satisfied. “Exactly. Jamie boy, let’s up the music.” 

James looked down at his watch and pressed a button on it. Suddenly, the music blared out even louder, until it felt as though the floor was thumping underneath them.

Remus glanced down at his watch. There were ten minutes left until eight o’clock. “What if no one comes? See, Sirius, I told you this wasn’t the brightest idea. No one knows who I am.”

“If no one comes, then we get totally plastered on all the liquor I bought and we celebrate your birthday anyways,” Sirius yelled over the sounds of Fleetwood Mac.

“I love this song! Let’s go!” Marlene shouted, and pulled Dorcas with one arm and Lily and Mary with the other in the direction of the dance floor.

The thought of spending an evening like that was not entirely unpleasant, Remus thought, imagining himself and his friends spread out on the dance floor and drinking the champagne that Sirius enjoyed. He was almost mildly disappointed when Peter showed up, ushering in half a dozen reporters and other media representatives and the first group of invitees, including Alice and Frank Longbottom, who immediately went to hug and kiss Marlene, Mary, and Lily. Peter motioned to Sirius with one hand and waved at Remus with the other.

“Are you ready for this?” Sirius asked quietly, leaning in so that his mouth brushed Remus’s ear. He took Remus’s hand and held it carefully. “You know, the paparazzi, the lights, the party? I know it’s a lot, so if you want to step out at any point, just tell me.”

“I mean, it’s _your_ fundraiser. How are people supposed to donate anyways?”

“Fuck that,” Sirius said lightly. “It’s _your_ birthday. Anyways, it’s more like this party is encouraging them to maybe, possibly donate in the future, it’s not like I’m charging twenty bucks at the door. Though honestly, I could have charged and should have.”

“People wouldn’t have paid to get into my birthday party.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side. “I’d pay to spend time with you, Moony. Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I mean, considering I have like ten friends in all of Godric’s Hollow...”

“You lie. You’re very popular. Remember your birthday in senior year? Peter had to be a bouncer because somehow, the whole fucking Department of English wanted to come.”

Remus threw his head back and laughed at the memory of Peter trying to yell at a bunch of mildly plastered English majors. Whether it was the shot of tequila that he, Mary, and Lily had taken in the car ride over to the apartment, the jubilation of having his friends altogether, some childish pleasure over his birthday, or the gentle look on Sirius’s face coupled with his decidedly un-gentle pants, but Remus felt happier than he had in a long time.

“I’m ready for a real Marauders party,” Remus said firmly, and he took Sirius’s hand with renewed fervor. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

***

By ten o’clock, the party was in full swing. After the press had left, despite James’s effort to keep some decorum in the room for the sake of potential donors, the event had become a Bacchanal celebration quite unlike anything that Godric’s Hollow had seen since the Marauders’ fateful final party in senior year. Sirius had had to get on the phone, mildly annoyed but mostly pleased, instructing the doormen at the front desk to not permit the dozens of people who had tried to get into the party without invitations to come up to their apartment. The music was blasting at full volume, from disco music to classic rock to synth-pop and everything in between – James had hired a DJ to mix the playlist together in a way that seemed effortless, the tracks layering over each other so that Remus might have started off listening to Prince and ended up dancing to ABBA. The disco ball washed the entire apartment in a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. The dance floor was sloppy, arms and legs flailing everywhere, couples making out furtively in dark corners of the apartment. Drinks were flowing easily. The bartenders had been trained to pour generously and to serve elaborate cocktails, one of which was named after Remus and had gin and elderflower in it. Sirius had spared no expense with the quality of the drinks.

“I hate to say it, but Black knows how to throw a good party,” Lily screamed over Stevie Wonder’s crooning voice. She waved her bare arms in the air enthusiastically.

Remus shook his shoulders from side to side, trying to imitate Marlene’s carefree dance moves. “I know he does! But he said it’s for his campaign…fundraising or something.”

“That’s bull and you know it,” Marlene shouted, twirling Dorcas around. “He did this for _you_.”

“No, it’s definitely not just for me. That’s way too much money to spend on a birthday,” Remus said, stumbling over his words.

“I sort of have to agree with Marlene here,” Dorcas said with a broad smile. “I can’t see how this really helps the campaign at all. That’s just my personal opinion though.”

Remus was taken aback slightly as he realized that they were likely right.

“Wow, I feel like I’m top of the world right now. You two seem really sober,” Lily said suspiciously.

“I don’t drink,” Dorcas said with a smile.

“So I’m not drinking either,” Marlene grinned, holding Dorcas close. “It’s actually kind of nice watching everyone here lose their shit and being above it all.”

“Get off your high horse, McKinnon, and dance with me,” Lily said, as _Come on Eileen_ blasted over the speakers.

Remus felt flushed from head to toe, sticky but almost pleasantly so. Lily (who was more drunk than Remus had seen her in years) had managed to keep him dancing almost the whole night, despite his initial insistence that he should be with Sirius and James in case something important happened to the campaign. He felt incredibly thirsty and very hot. Remus left the dance floor and headed towards the bar, the world spinning around him as he walked.

“Have you met Rupert?” Mary asked him for the fourth time as he interrupted Remus on his way to the bar, making Remus shake hands with her boyishly good-looking boss yet again. Remus decided to humor her.

“Nice to meet you,” Remus shouted over the music.

“Happy birthday again! I know I already met you but I’m not gonna say no to Mary here. Isn’t she absolutely lovely?”

Remus agreed. Then he pulled Mary in. “Be careful. Isn’t it maybe not the best thing to shit where you eat and all that?”

“You set the framework for sleeping with your boss anyways,” Mary said cheerfully. Remus was floored by how easily she said it and how breezily she just walked away from him.

Remus headed to the bar and smiled at the bartender who had just started his shift. He had dark red hair, and looked vaguely familiar.

“Happy birthday again,” he said with a warm smile. “You look like you’ve been having a good night. What can I get you?”

“Surprise me,” Remus said, leaning against the counter. He felt a wave of exhaustion hit him after several hours of dancing around with Lily.

“Can do. And will do,” the bartender said as he moved around the space in a singular, fluid motion. “You must have some killer friends to throw you a birthday party like this. This apartment is sick. People actually live here?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s really something else, and they’re really something else too,” Remus said, looking around at the packed room. The room seemed to be shrouded in a haze of smoke, but he could spot Marlene and Dorcas dancing up a storm near the middle. Lily was nowhere to be seen.

The bartender poured a plum-colored drink into a cup filled with ice. “All yours. Something nice and special, picked it up in bartending class.”

Remus sipped on it. It tasted vaguely fruity, with a twist of citrus at the very end.

“It’s delicious.”

The bartender leaned across the bar. “My name’s Fabian.”

Remus squinted at him. “Have I ever met you before? You look really familiar for some reason.”

Fabian snickered. “I have a twin brother. He also lives in Godric’s Hollow – works for _On Air_ , you know the show? I think his boss is somewhere around here.”

“That’s right,” Remus said, having a sudden flash of the show assistant who had guided Lily and Marlene towards the audience on the day of Sirius’s interview.

“But I don’t think I’ve met you. I’d like to, though,” Fabian said.

“Oh. _Oh_. I’m sorry,” Remus said, wiping at his mouth awkwardly. “I’m taken, actually, you know.” The words tasted honeyed in his mouth.

“That’s disappointing,” Fabian said easily. “Who’s the lucky guy? Is he here?”

“It’s his apartment, actually,” Remus said, downing the rest of the drink. Remus realized just a bit too late that the cocktail was rather strong. Fabian immediately slid him another one.

“So do you like him or is this just temporary? Do I have a shot, or is it looking like forever with the rich bastard?”

“I think he’s wonderful,” Remus blurted out. And it was true, he thought, as he reflected on Sirius, who had spent all this money on a birthday party that may or may not have actually contributed anything of value to his campaign and would almost certainly invite a mountain of cleaning fees tomorrow.

As though he had been summoned, Sirius showed up with a wicked grin and leaned against the counter next to Remus. His grey eyes flashed with the reflection of the disco lights.

“Sirius!” Remus shouted despite his best efforts to keep his cool. “Hi!”

“Happy birthday, lover boy,” Sirius said loudly, putting his arm around Remus’s waist.

“Where have you been? I looked for you on the dance floor,” Remus said.

“I know, I saw you. I’ve been watching you. I came over because I was afraid the bartender was flirting with you.”

He said the last part even more loudly, so that there was no doubt that Fabian heard him. Remus was vaguely embarrassed but also oddly pleased. He finished the dregs of his second drink.

“I’ve been making friends…and wooing supporters.”

“I should’ve been with you,” Remus said. “You know, as your boyfriend.”

Sirius touched his shoulder and then ran his fingers down Remus’s arm lightly. “Nah, I wanted you to enjoy the party. Anyways, I think it’s going pretty well, all things considered. Prongs was breathing down my neck for a while so I sent him away. I actually…don’t know where he is.”

Remus only half paid attention to what Sirius was saying. Whatever Fabian had put in his drink had him feeling almost deliriously happy, but also a little woozy. He gripped onto Sirius’s arm for balance.

“Are you okay, Moony? Do you want to go onto the balcony for some air?” Sirius asked, looking concerned.

The idea of getting to go outside with Sirius was immediately appealing. “Yes, let’s do that.”

Sirius took his hand and led him through the throng of dancing, drinking partygoers until they reached the balcony. A guest that Remus did not recognize was on one side, talking into their phone angrily. Sirius led Remus by the hand to the other side of the balcony, which faced another side of Godric’s Hollow.

“Aren’t you cold?” Remus said. Sirius was still wearing just his tee-shirt.

“I run hot.”

Sirius looked wicked when he said it. Remus tried to ignore his meaningful look.

“This is really a spectacular view,” Remus said, peering down the stories to look at the cars and people stumbling home or heading to the clubs or bars for the night. “It must be nice to sit out here every once in a while.”

“Yeah, sometimes I’ll just walk out here completely in the nude just for kicks.”

Remus stared at him. Sirius burst out laughing.

“Alright, I only did it once. And I’m not planning to do it again,” Sirius said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Remus took it out of his mouth, took a long puff, and crushed it underneath the heel of his shoe.

“These are bad for you,” he said firmly.

“Whatever you say, birthday boy,” Sirius said, his eyes sparkling.

“I have a question,” Remus said boldly, and he was suddenly aware of his proximity to Sirius, who looked as gorgeous as ever and smelled like champagne and aftershave, and whose delicate hands and wrists led up to strong arms and shoulders that somehow, Remus could not stop staring at. “Did you throw this party for me?”

“I mean, obviously, Remus, it’s your birthday,” Sirius said with amusement.

“I mean just for me. Like, are _you_ getting anything out of this?”

Sirius looked up at the midnight blue sky thoughtfully. The stars were just barely visible.

“Not particularly. I mean, maybe someone will decide to donate a shit ton of money because they like me, or something, but I don’t really care.”

“You shouldn’t have spent all this money on me,” Remus said, leaning against the edge of the balcony.

“But I wanted to do it. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“But the _money_!”

“It was only like five grand, don’t worry about it.”

“You rich asshole,” Remus shouted out towards Godric’s Hollow.

Sirius laughed, and the sound of it covered Remus with an all-encompassing, creeping warmth that was quite unlike the sticky heat inside the apartment that was fogging up the windows.

“It must be nice to have money,” Remus said with a sigh.

Sirius turned to look at him with gray eyes that Remus could see the reflections of the stars in. “It has its perks. But I’d give it all up for you.”

The moment became suddenly sober. The fresh chill of the March air had sobered Remus up considerably, and he was glad for it. They locked eyes with one another until Remus could see himself falling headlong into the depths of Sirius’s gray eyes. He realized with a jolt that he did not actually care if he collapsed, as long as Sirius were there to soften the blow. He knew in that moment, as though he were divining the future from a crystal ball or reading it in the stars, what was going to happen.

“I have a birthday gift for you,” Sirius said, leaning against him. Throwing caution to the wind, and giving into what he knew was going to happen somehow, someway, Remus leaned heavily back against him, putting his head on Sirius’s shoulder.

“Isn’t this party the present?”

“No, no, I put it in my room. Do you want to come with…oh…I mean, you don’t have to come into my room, I can…I can…bring it out here,” Sirius said hastily.

“I’ll go…I’ll go anywhere with you,” Remus said, meaning it.

“Oh, will you now?” Sirius asked, with a little quirk of his mouth upwards.

“Yes,” Remus said bluntly.

They walked, hand-in-hand, through the crowded living room. The party was beginning to die down a little, and they were stopped several times by people saying goodbye – first Marlene and Dorcas, who looked maddeningly happy, then Rupert and Mary, looking vaguely guilty, and then Alice and Frank, looking happy and domestic together, among a slew of partygoers that Sirius knew but Remus did not. They all wished Remus a very happy birthday.

“Are you drunk?” Sirius asked, as they finally broke away from the group.

“I was for a little bit,” Remus admitted. “But being outside sort of chilled me out a little.”

“Good,” Sirius said absentmindedly, and led him down the long corridor that led to his bedroom. The room was dark and cold and felt very much like a hotel. There were very few decorations or personal touches, and the bed was covered in white sheets and a white comforter that looked brand-new. He would never have guessed that anyone lived here.

“Are _you_ drunk?” Remus asked tentatively.

“Not at all – I haven’t had anything since your champagne toast. _Someone_ needed to make sure that everything went smoothly.”

“This room looks like the Ritz-Carlton,” Remus said, as Sirius eased the door closed. He leaned against one of the walls.

“Yeah, it’s not particularly homey. But you know, I never really knew how long I was planning on staying in Godric’s Hollow,” Sirius said offhandedly, turning on his closet light and rummaging through it. “If I win, then I’ll be in Washington. And if I lose…well, who knows.”

“Oh,” Remus said. He felt like a pricked balloon.

“But you know,” Sirius said, pulling out a badly-wrapped package and handing it to Remus with the barest flicker of shyness on his face, “I may have a reason to stay here.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You _may_ have?”

Sirius looked genuinely uncertain. “That sort of depends on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remus, Moony, whatever you want me to call you, I want you to give me a chance. Like a real chance, not this fake-dating stuff,” Sirius said, all in a long string of words that seemed to come from deep inside him.

Remus was speechless.

“And I know there’s a lot of work to be done on this campaign, and I know I was an asshole for a long time, and I know that the situation is weird, but please, I’m begging you for just a snowball’s chance in hell. Give me a shot.” He gave Remus an earnest, puppyish look.

Remus scrambled to put the words together. He felt as though his brain was firing on all cylinders and yet completely blank.

Sirius looked a little disheartened at Remus’s lack of words, but pressed on bravely. “Okay, I know this was a lot. Maybe open your present first.”

This, Remus could do. He gently took the wrapping paper apart, and took out an ornate, gilt covers that bound together a handsome, expensive-looking book. He turned it around to look at the spine.

_The Collected Poems of e.e. cummings, First Edition_

He looked at the piece of paper that Sirius had slipped into the first page of the book. In his elegant script, he had written:

_to my moon, my sun, and all my stars, happy birthday. love, sirius._

“Was it too much?” Sirius asked with a nervous laugh. “I sort of thought that this night would go a little differently, and if you don’t like it, I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll keep it.”

Remus threw his arms around Sirius’s neck and leaned in until their foreheads were pressed against each other. “I love it. And yes. The answer is yes.”

“Really?” Sirius asked eagerly.

Remus was feeling reckless, and yet strangely aware of all the sensations that were happening at the same time. He could feel Sirius’s racing heart against him.

“I’m giving you a chance, Sirius. Just…don’t break my heart again.”

Sirius tightened his grip around Remus’s waist. “Absolutely fucking not. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did. I still haven’t forgiven myself for doing it the first time.”

They leaned in and kissed, first softly, uncertainly, as though they had never done it before, before moving on with a fervor that seemed to shock and delight both of them. They moved around Sirius’s room until they were lying down on his bed, Sirius leaning over Remus with a funny look on his face.

“Are we really doing this? Right now?” Sirius asked breathlessly, pushing his hair away from his face and holding Remus’s face as though he were something precious. “

“Yes. I want to. Do you?” Remus felt almost giddy. 

“Yes.” Sirius said frankly, and his eyes moved over Remus. “But with your whole party outside?”

“Forget the party,” Remus said airily, pulling Sirius’s shirt off over his head. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

***

The next morning, Remus woke up first, Sirius splayed over him with his head tucked in the crook of Remus’s neck. He gently eased Sirius off of him and padded out through the debris-cluttered living room to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. His ears were ringing and his eyes were drooping with exhaustion. There were many thoughts running through his head, but the predominant one involved Lily Evans, and how she was almost certainly going to kill him when she found out what had happened last night.

He was just finishing downing one cup of water when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, expecting to find James. Instead, he found himself face to face with Lily, mascara ringing her eyes, wearing the same shirt that she had labeled James’s Ronald McDonald shirt. Her dark red hair was heavily tousled. She looked like a mess.

“Well,” Lily said finally, after they had stared at each other for a full minute. “This is an interesting development, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a soft spot for writing birthday scenes the week of my own birthday :) stay safe, and thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

James stumbled into his kitchen at half past ten, looking dazed and groggy and yet unmistakably happy. He was wearing a pair of flannels and a Chelsea tee-shirt that Remus had seen a hundred times. His eyes shot open completely when he noticed Remus and Lily calmly enjoying breakfast together at the breakfast counter.

“Oh, Remus, hi, er, I can explain,” James stammered out. “Good…good morning. Well, you see, what happened was, Lily, I mean, Evans, was helping me with the music last night, and –”

Remus put his hand up before James could work himself into a hole. “Prongs, it’s fine. Lily already explained everything to me.”

James gave Lily a soppy look. He sat down next to Remus at the breakfast counter and helped himself to a piece of Remus’s toast. “And here I was thinking that you’d be embarrassed to tell people that we slept together.”

“I am, somewhat,” Lily said. “But Remus is my best friend, so I sort of had to tell him.”

“Makes sense,” James yawned, slipping off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. “Wow, this place is a mess. Worth it though. I looked at my phone during the party and we’ve gotten a good number of people added to the email list and were trending for a bit on Twitter last night. And some donations, of course, but we’re blowing through more money than expected so it doesn’t quite add up just yet. It’s all those ads.”

“Yeah, even I got one on Facebook last week,” Lily said. “Is that picture of Sirius photoshopped?”

“Nah, he’s just annoyingly good-looking,” James said offhandedly. “But still, those ads were incredibly expensive. Pretty necessary, though.”

Remus was suddenly very shy. He looked down at his plate. “I told Sirius that throwing a birthday party wasn’t worth the expense if there were other things going on. Was it really five grand, James?”

James clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it mate. Sirius paid out of pocket for that one, from his personal accounts.”

Lily shook her head. “I still can’t believe he’s financing this whole campaign essentially on his own. Rich boys.”

James smiled. “If it weren’t for Uncle Alphard, rest in peace, this campaign would be nowhere. Sirius is impulsive, but he’s not an idiot. He’d blow through his own money in a heartbeat on this campaign and it wouldn’t be worth it at all. Still,” James added thoughtfully, reaching across the table and taking a sip from Lily’s mug of coffee despite her protests, “I need to talk to Pete. We’re spending way too much money on shit.”

“What are the numbers?” Remus asked.

James looked mildly embarrassed. “Honestly, I’ve been really focused on polling and social network numbers and not nearly enough on money. Pete and his intern…whatever the hell his intern’s name is…Tom…something? They’re the ones who focus on the numbers game. I mean I trust Pete, and he _was_ a business major after all. But you know how Pete gets excited sometimes, I’ve got to remind him that this is a marathon and not a sprint.”

Remus smiled. He remembered Peter blowing money that he did not have on a fancy motorbike in college just to impress a girl that he had been dating, and the angry phone call from his parents shortly thereafter. Unable to return the motorcycle, Sirius had bought it off him. Remus wondered what had happened to Sirius’s motorcycle and whether it had made the trip to D.C. and back.

“Anyways,” James said, shooting Remus a sly look. “You’re here early. Decided to get started on campaign work?”

Remus looked down at the Led Zeppelin tee-shirt that was quite obviously Sirius’s and could almost see the rest of himself through James’s eyes – the tender marks on his neck, the mussed-up hair, and the stupid grin he couldn’t seem to get off his face.

“Oh yes, exactly that,” Remus said, with a grateful smile.

“Where is our little superstar, anyways?” James asked. “We need to start preparing for these debates like, yesterday.”

“When are the debates?” Lily asked, helping herself to another cup of coffee from James and Sirius’s complicated-looking metallic coffee maker.

“Singular debate, Lily. Um, Evans?”

“Enough with this. Just call me Lily,” Lily said without missing a beat. She rummaged through the cabinets for more sugar. James looked though as though Chelsea had won the Champions League.

Remus cleared his throat after a moment. “So why is there only one debate?”

“No clue. My guess is that Malfoy somehow managed to pay off the governor to only host one debate because he sucks at debating. Which is where our beloved devil’s advocate, Sirius Orion Black, gets his time to shine.”

“We started prep work last week,” Remus explained to Lily. “James has a white board around here somewhere, but most of the stuff is at the campaign headquarters. We’ve been drilling Sirius on policy for a while now.”

“Right, our plan has been to come up with viral soundbites,” James said, getting off the kitchen stool and reaching above Lily’s head to hand her the cannister filled with white grains of sugar. “Maybe we’ll never manage to be left of Weasley, but we can certainly be left of Vance. Easily digestible, center-left, solid policy, spoken about elegantly and articulately. That’s where Remus comes in with his brilliant words,” James said, nudging Remus. Remus grinned back at him.

“Who’s moderating the debate?” Lily asked, stirring her sugar into her coffee. Remus stretched his arms up and headed over to the stove to heat up water for a third cup of tea.

James made a face. “Rita Skeeter. Obnoxious. They should have gotten Dorcas to do it, she would have been _loads_ better.”

“She and Marlene are really sweet together,” Remus said, remembering their squeals of delight on the dance floor the night before. He had never seen Marlene that happy before.

James nodded sagely. “They complement each other well. Much like me and Lily over here.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Back to Evans for you, Potter.”

But Remus caught her smiling at James privately over the rim of her coffee cup. Remus looked away as to grant them their privacy and rifled through the cabinets to find more tea. Unfortunately for him, both Sirius and James were coffee people through and through. James only had a few spare bags of Earl Grey that he had brought back from Harrod’s last year.

“Well, well, well,” Remus heard James say suddenly. “Look who finally decided to grace us all with his appearance.”

Remus turned around and saw Sirius padding towards them in a St. Godric’s tee-shirt and sweatpants that he had thrown on haphazardly. Remus noticed with some amusement that the shirt was turned inside out. The two met each other’s eyes and smiled at each other shyly.

“Shh,” Sirius complained, “lower your voice.”

“Are you hungover?” James demanded, raising his voice even more.

“Not at all, Jamie, but I’m _trying_ to savor the delights of Sunday morning,” Sirius said, opening his apartment door and retrieving a thick, rolled-up newspaper from the hallway. He sat down next to Lily and began picking through the newspaper. “And it’s sort of hard to do so when your annoying voice is ringing in my ear. Oh look, we’re in the paper, Moony.”

Remus abandoned the teabag that he had been soaking in water and hurried over to Sirius’s side. Sirius made room so that Remus could hover over him. It was true – there, in the society pages, was a picture of Remus and Sirius from the cocktail hour the night before. Even in black and white, Sirius’s smile looked vibrant, his hair looked coiffed, and his entire being seemed to glow within the dull grayscale pages of the newspaper. Remus didn’t look bad, he noted with some approval. He looked presentable and, while he could never match Sirius on looks, at the very least looked put-together in his sweater and plaid pants. He wondered where on earth he had put that sweater last night.

“You look sexy in that photograph,” Sirius said with a low voice, and he pulled Remus close to him until Remus was nearly sitting on his lap. “I like your outfit.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Remus said. He felt Lily and James’s eyes on them and flushed. “It’s just a sweater.”

“I’m all hot and bothered over your sweater,” Sirius said, putting his face against Remus’s back.

“ _Alright_ ,” James said loudly. “We all knew this was going to happen, and I’m happy for you both, but I’m not putting up with these annoying public displays of affection.”

“Ditto,” Lily said.

James looked heartened and pressed on.

“The debate is on Thursday, and you have another thing coming, Sirius Black, if you think that I’m going to let you squander all of our hard work just so you can make eyes at Remus for the next four days. I’ll be absolutely arsed to let it happen.”

“Easy there, Prongs,” Sirius said, waving his hands in surrender. “I’ll be ready for the debates. I know my way around all of the criminal justice reform questions that we were going through on Friday, and I’m nearly done reviewing the student loan forgiveness talking points. Don’t worry, it’s going to be great. Evans, want to come to the debate?”

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment. “Nah. I think I’d get secondhand embarrassment from hearing you try to formulate a thought. I know how hard it is for you.”

Sirius scoffed. “But you came to my interview with Dorcas!”

“That was different,” Lily explained. “I was _dying_ to meet her, and plus, it wasn’t like you were going to have to actually think during that interview.”

“Hey,” Remus protested, “he had to think about all the talking points I had written for him.”

Lily leaned across Sirius and put her hand on Remus’s in a comforting sort of way. “They were excellent. I’m just reluctant to think that a jock like this one could actually be smart.”

Sirius scoffed. “I graduated _cum laude_ , Evans! I think plenty. Don’t let James ruin your ideas about what athletes can accomplish.”

James leaned over and shoved Sirius’s shoulder. “Tosser. I graduated with honors too, I just don’t go around flexing about it.”

Sirius clapped his hands impatiently. “Alright, we have lots of stuff to go through, and considering that the debate is on Thursday, I feel like we’re running short on time, gentlemen.”

“Easy,” James said warningly. “We have a guest and the last thing we want to do is chase her out of here.”

He gave Lily a charming smile. She half-smiled back and rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Trust me, Potter, I don’t want to stick around and listen to your half-baked campaign strategy any longer than I have to. I’ll grab my bag and catch the next bus out of here.”

“Nonsense,” James said gallantly. “Let me call you a car.”

He pulled out his phone and gasped dramatically. “Holy shit.”

Sirius practically leapt across the counter top. “What is it?”

James showed the three of them his phone screen. “Emmeline Vance is dropping out!”

Remus peered in to look at the screen. There was a picture of Emmeline with her chic, gray bob and a statement from her campaign.

_While I am grateful to Godric’s Hollow for the support, it has become fiscally impossible to sustain this campaign, particularly in light of campaign finance reform laws that make it harder for candidates who do not have the benefit of overflowing personal coffers. Governor Fudge has offered me a position on the Committee for Small Business, where I will get to work with and for local businesses. I am grateful to him for this opportunity and look forward to getting to work. I wish my best to Mr. Weasley, Mr. Black, and Mr. Malfoy in their efforts to represent Godric’s Hollow. I will not be endorsing anyone at this time._

“Well, isn’t that something,” Sirius said dryly. “Nice little dig at me and Malfoy with the personal coffers reference, I’m sure.”

“Time to put more money into ads,” James said, tapping quickly on his phone.

“And then there were three,” Remus said, sitting back in his chair. The race had suddenly become much more interesting, and the debates all that more important. He took a swig of Lily’s coffee and scrunched his face together. “Let’s get to work.”

***

Even though they had essentially pulled what felt like three all-nighters that week, Remus had a hard time getting to sleep the night before the debate. James had let them all go home right after dinner so that they could prepare and at least attempt to relax. He claimed that resting would make them more productive the next evening, when Sirius was set to face Lucius Malfoy and Charlie Weasley. Remus thought that James had given them the evening off because the interns who did research and strategy work for them had begun to mutiny against him. Though the interns were handsomely compensated, James had demanded that they put eating, sleeping, and their own social lives to the side over the last few days.

Remus had done the same, for the most part. Remus had drilled his own words – based on the interns’ research and development, edited by James and then by another two interns, before being edited by Sirius himself – into Sirius’s mind. They had focused on seven major categories: health care, student loans, affordable housing, anti-discrimination legislation, education, public transportation, and climate change. While Sirius was very strong on anti-discrimination laws, having his own father’s work to riff on, many of the areas had needed a considerable amount of work. As a result, Remus had barely slept over the last few days. He had not seen Lily since Sunday, in part because she was on a team that was headed to trial within the next few weeks and in part because he spent almost all of his time at Sirius’s apartment or at the campaign headquarters. Now that he was finally in his own bed and had the time to sleep, though, resting was the furthest thing from his mind.

The apartment was completely still, with Lily either still at the office or fast asleep – hopefully the latter. He looked over at the clock on his nightstand. It was nearly one in the morning. He sighed and walked over to his bookshelf to pick the collection of poems that Sirius had gifted him for his birthday, hoping that the comforting words of e.e. cummings would lull him to sleep.

His phone suddenly buzzed, lighting up the near-darkness of the room. It was Sirius.

_Are you asleep?_

_No,_ Remus wrote back. _Are you trying to hit me up for a booty call?_

 _Always_ , Sirius replied immediately. _Can I call you?_

_Yes._

“Hi,” Remus whispered into the phone, answering it on the second ring. He tucked himself back underneath his covers. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I can’t,” Sirius said. “Every time I close my eyes, I keep thinking of all the ways I can fuck this up tomorrow and then it’s like I can’t even remember _how_ to fall asleep.”

This insomnia, Remus remembered from college. Whenever Sirius would have a big game or a test the next day, he would pace around their dorm room for hours after everyone had fallen asleep. When they began sleeping in the same bed, Remus would sometimes stay up with him reading or talking until eventually, Sirius’s breath settled down and he drifted off to sleep.

“It makes sense that you’re nervous. But you’re going to do great. You were on fire tonight, during practice.”

“What if I look terrible on T.V.? You know, pull a Nixon versus Kennedy and start sweating everywhere?”

Remus smiled. “You’re too hot for that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, what happens if I get up there and freeze?”

“Then you speak from the heart,” Remus said firmly.

There was a moment of silence, and then Remus heard Sirius sigh loudly into the phone.

“And what if I don’t have anything in my heart but you?”

Remus smiled into the phone. “Aren’t you a romantic? Longfellow would have loved you.”

“I’m serious. I feel like at this point, I don’t even know what I think of anything anymore.”

Remus rearranged his phone to fit between his head and the crook of his shoulder. “Then forget all the talking points, and figure out what it is you want to say.”

“I want to say,” Sirius said slowly, “that I’m twenty-five years old and have no fucking clue what I’m doing.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, that’ll go real well with the voters, Sirius. But I’ve seen how passionate you get about certain issues. Remember that time you were reading to the kids at the library? You were so excited talking to them and their parents.”

“Well, that’s because I like kids, though.”

“And when we talked to the wounded veterans at that breakfast meeting?”

“It means a lot to talk to people who have sacrificed so much.”

“And what about those affordable housing activists?”

“Everyone deserves a place to live as a human right.”

“And what about anti-gay legislation promulgated with the help of your father?”

“My father can rot. Everyone deserves to be treated the same no matter their gender or their sexuality or their pronouns or who they’re trying to fuck.”

“Okay,” Remus said with a laugh, “maybe steer clear of the last bit, but the rest of this sounds like a really solid message. So maybe we’re never going to be left of Charlie Weasley. You have a center-left spot all you own and don’t have to fight with Vance for it, and then Malfoy can just eat himself alive, the son of a bitch.”

Sirius paused. “I don’t really want to talk to him tomorrow.”

“So don’t,” Remus said. “Just refer to him in the third person. Mr. Malfoy thinks this, Mr. Malfoy says that, but I think…and then you hammer it home.”

“You’re starting to sound like Prongs with your enthusiasm here,” Sirius said with a soft laugh. “I’m starting to think that you really believe in me. Either that, or you both drank from the same glass of Kool-Aid.”

“I do believe in you,” Remus said, and the thought was genuine. He really did think that Sirius had a shot – much more of a solid one than the day he had spotted him on television, floundering underneath Rita Skeeter’s ice-cold gaze. “And I think that you’d be an amazing Congressman.”

Sirius’s voice was soft. “Then that’s all I need. I’ll do it for you.”

“But what about doing it for yourself?”

Remus could almost picture Sirius shrugging. “I’d rather do this for you, if you believe that I can do it.”

Remus’s eyes started drooping shut. “This sounds like a big conversation for another day. But are you feeling any better?”

“Sort of,” Sirius admitted. “But honestly, it’s still pretty hard to sleep. What would you do if I were there with you?”

Remus laughed his way through a yawn. “I am _not_ going to stay up all night with you if you’re just going to whisper unholy things.”

“I wish you had stayed over here. You could have slept over,” Sirius pleaded.

“I didn’t want to distract you,” Remus said mildly. He yawned again. He really did wish that he had stayed over with Sirius.

“Can I come over?” Sirius asked eagerly.

“Now? It’s one thirty in the morning, Sirius,” Remus complained. “It’s not safe to drive, especially if you’re tired.”

“No, no, please, I don’t even feel sleepy,” Sirius protested.

“I’m not gonna stay up like in college, okay? I’m too old for it.”

“You’re younger than I am!”

“By like four months, Sirius, that doesn’t count.”

“So is the answer yes?”

Remus pretended to think about it. “Fine,” he said. “But hurry up and drive safely.”

“That feels like an oxymoron,” Sirius said, and Remus heard the sounds of him moving around his room and looking for his car keys.

“I feel like I’m going to fall asleep on the phone,” Remus said, closing his eyes again.

“Stay on the phone with me. Take a nap. And then I’ll just tell you when I’m at your apartment,” Sirius said.

“Mm.” Remus replied.

Sirius pulled up to Remus’s apartment twenty minutes later. Remus dragged himself out of bed and shuffled to the doorstep, not caring that his hair looked like a matted mess from being pushed against his pillow or that his pajamas did not match in the slightest.

“You look adorable,” Sirius said as Remus opened the door. He was wearing a thick Patagonia and slim-fit black joggers.

“Definitely not,” Remus said, letting Sirius kiss him all over his face. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me too. Finally.” Sirius said, taking his shoes off by the door and almost tripping over himself.

“Shh, Lily’s probably asleep,” Remus said, pointing to Lily’s closed door.

“Doubt it,” Sirius said. “Seeing as she’s at my apartment with James right now. I saw her coat on the couch.”

“No wonder he sent us all home early,” Remus mused. He made a note to question and harass Lily about this later, when he felt more alert.

Not bothering to turn the light on, Remus threw himself back into bed.

“It’s not your California king size,” Remus said sleepily, muffled from the pillow that he had buried himself into. “So adjust your expectations accordingly.”

Sirius tucked himself into bed next to Remus, wrapping his arm around his waist and nestling his face in the crook of Remus’s neck.

“This is perfect, actually,” Sirius said. “So do you want to tell stories, or…”

Remus took Sirius’s hand and brushed his lips against it sleepily. “Go to sleep. Good night.”

“Good night, Moony.”

***

“So what are you going to say when you get asked about student loans and Charlie Weasley mentions the fact that you come from a wealthy family and didn’t have to think about student loans?” Remus quizzed Sirius in the car on the way to the debate.

“I was privileged enough to have family support, but not everyone is. If you want to go to college, you should have the ability to do so without feeling the weight of student loans breathing down your neck,” Sirius said enthusiastically. “My own personal background shouldn’t matter, just as no one’s past should matter in applying for student loan forgiveness.”

“Decent,” James called out from the driver’s seat of Sirius’s car. “But tone down the excitement. Exude responsibility, professionalism, all of that.”

“And remember to include a line about including community colleges as well as four-year anniversaries,” Peter reminded him from the passenger’s seat, consulting his notes. “The fact that you went to the most prestigious college in the state sometimes goes in your favor and sometimes doesn’t, so might as well play all of the cards. Tell me what your thoughts are on public transportation.”

“Uh,” Sirius said. “There isn’t enough of it?”

“We went over this last night,” Remus reminded him. “The acronym CARE, remember?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Sirius snapped his fingers together, clearly trying to summon up an answer. “It’s hard to remember when I have so much shit crammed in my head – _easy_ on those turns, Jamie, this is my car, I’ll remind you.”

“I can’t help it that I have to keep speeding, I think we’re running late,” James fumed.

“And whose fault is that?” Sirius exclaimed.

“Yours, asshole! You were the one who insisted on redoing your hair like three times.”

“At least one time was Peter’s fault. He’s the one who told me I looked too much like a playboy with my hair all loose,” Sirius complained.

“Honestly, you should think about cutting your hair,” James said, eyeing Sirius in the rearview mirror with a suspicious look.

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said, tossing his hair back over one shoulder. “Moony likes it.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Remus said, though he softly ran his hands over Sirius’s hair. Then, he became quickly serious. “CARE, give it to me. Public transportation.”

“Oh, alright,” Sirius sighed. “Cost-effectiveness, accessibility, research, and equity. We’re going to aim for affordable and accessible public transportation that’s grounded in research and innovation and aims to promote economic and racial equity. Good enough?”

“Satisfactory,” James said, before swearing at a minivan that had cut in front of him.

“It’s kind of funny that the debate is at St. Godric’s,” Peter mused. He fixed his tie nervously. “I haven’t been to Flint Hall since I took that class on existentialism there.”

“I was in that class too,” Sirius reminisced. “I don’t think I ever went to class, though.”

“I took that class with both of you,” Remus added. “And no, you definitely never came to class.”

They reflected on their class in near-silence, save for James cursing under his breath every so often. They approached the looming turrets and brick buildings of St. Godric’s shortly thereafter. It was the first time that Remus had seen the castle since graduating without feeling a stab of pain at the thought of Sirius. He ran his thumb over Sirius’s hand, and Sirius placed his hand over his.

“Looks even prettier at night,” Peter said, sticking his head out the window as James navigated Sirius’s car towards the parking garage on the outskirts of the campus.

It was true. The classically beautiful buildings and towers of St. Godric’s were illuminated brilliantly with soft yellow lights in classrooms, dormitories, and offices. Remus remembered how several of those lights had belonged to them at Avery Hall during freshman year and then Carrow House for their second, third, and fourth years on campus.

“Ready?” James asked, slapping his thighs before opening the car door.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sirius said, trying to sound totally aloof.

“You’re going to be phenomenal, Sirius,” Peter said.

“Agreed,” Remus said, squeezing Sirius’s hand. Sirius looked the part of a young politician, with his navy blue suit and light blue button-down shirt. He looked handsome, and while that may not have bought any points with voters, it certainly made Remus feel better about the appearance of their campaign, as superficial as it was.

“Pete, you look good. Is that a new suit?” James asked, studying his friend.

“Oh…yes.”

“Armani?” Sirius asked, rubbing the sleeve between two fingers.

“Wow, you’re good. Yes.” Peter laughed nervously.

“Pettigrew, you dog, who are you trying to impress?” James asked lightly.

The four of them laughed and then set themselves to walking uphill, through the expansive grounds and greenery that was beginning to bloom once again with the arrival of spring, until they reached the auditorium where the debate was set to take place.

“Now, how do we get inside?” Sirius asked, studying the entrance where students and citizens alike were filing into Flint Hall.

“Remember, they told us to come in through the back,” Peter said, pointing out the side entrance and yanking a metal door open. The hallway leading to the backstage was lined with elaborate stained glass that looked eerie in the faint glow of the moon.

“Good lad. How do you know all these secret entrances, Pete?” James asked. “Not that I’m not grateful that you spared us the embarrassment of having to ask for directions around our own alma mater.”

“I was part of the band, remember?”

Remus recalled this quite clearly. The remaining Marauders had come to Flint Hall once a semester to watch Peter blow exuberantly on his trumpet with a part of his jazz band. 

“What are we supposed to be doing here?” Remus asked, as the hallway spat them out into an open space crowded with people.

“I think some of these assistants rolling around are supposed to mic Sirius up and then…yeah, that’s about it,” James said. “We just loiter around and then go sit in the first few rows.”

“Oh shit. Look who’s coming,” Sirius said.

Charlie Weasley – broad-shouldered, red-haired, and sun-beaten – walked towards them with purpose. He was accompanied on his left by a similarly red-haired man who seemed older than him. He had scars running up one side of his face, leather boots that criss-crossed up his legs, and an earring that looked oddly sharp dangling from one ear. The woman on Charlie’s other side looked petite and flowery-looking, with a sheet of platinum blonde hair that flowed as she walked.

“Sirius Black, in the flesh,” Charlie Weasley said with a deep, booming voice. He had a small microphone attached to his suit blazer, right next to a button promoting the _Society for the Preservation of Environmental Welfare_. “Charlie Weasley.”

A camera flash caught Remus’s eye as the two candidates shook hands.

“I think I met you once,” Sirius said, clasping his hand and shaking. “You gave a presentation in college once, my senior year. This is James Potter, my campaign manager, Peter Pettigrew, my CFO, and, ah, Remus Lupin, my speechwriter. And also boyfriend. Not in that order.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Charlie said lightly. He had light blue eyes that seemed to dig right in. “This is my brother, Bill, my right hand man and fellow representative of the Weasley family here in Godric’s Hollow, and Fleur Delacour, my campaign manager.”

“Enchantée,” Fleur said with a lovely, lilting French accent as she extended her hand. Peter looked absolutely enamored.

“Nice to meet everyone,” Bill said with an even deeper voice than Charlie.

“It’s a real pleasure,” James said with a grin.

“Same,” Remus chimed in.

“So it looks like it’s down to the three of us, eh?” Charlie said cheerfully. He lowered his voice. “Between us, and completely off the record, I’d rather you win than Malfoy. He’s horrific.”

“Very much agreed,” Sirius said, not bothering to lower his voice even as Lucius Malfoy and his wife, the very blonde and extremely polished-looking Narcissa, and a sallow-looking man with hooded eyes, entered the room. “I can’t imagine that bastard Malfoy winning this. It would be a step backwards in Congress, which is saying a lot considering that my father was the original Congressman here.”

Lucius, instead of shirking off, seemed ready to pounce. He slithered over to the corner where they had all been gathering. Remus spotted one of the photographers who had been assigned to take pictures of the candidates backstage zooming in on them.

“A very auspicious occasion to see all of you. This is my campaign manager, whom I believe some of you have met. Mr. Severus Snape.”

“Just Severus will do,” the man said, with a silky but cold voice that in no way encouraged anyone to use a nickname.

Remus noted that while Sirius and James stared coldly straight at them, Peter looked so nervous that he kept looking down to the floor. Poor Peter, Remus thought. He was never the type to enjoy a confrontation.

“Pleasure,” Sirius said haughtily, every ounce of the ancient and most noble House of Black dripping from his words.

“You must be Mr. Lupin,” Lucius said smoothly, and cocked his head slightly towards Remus.

“Yes?” Remus asked, feeling his hackles rising as Lucius looked him up and down.

“I’ve heard very much about you,” Lucius said, looking between him and Sirius. Remus fought back the urge to squirm.

“Are we done here?” Sirius hissed.

“I suppose so. I should wish you both the best of luck here,” Lucius drawled. “So good luck.”

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest. “Same to you.”

Sirius looked off into the distance, as though he were bored by the conversation. After a moment, Lucius walked away after a moment, and someone came to strap Sirius with a microphone. Charlie headed off in the direction of his family, a large and boisterous-looking bunch of redheads. Sirius looked irritated.

“I can’t stand Malfoy.”

“He didn’t even say anything to you,” Remus said. “Don’t let him get under your skin just yet.”

“He said something to you, and if he had said just one little thing the wrong way I would have beaten the shit out of him,” Sirius seethed.

“Beating him up would not have been the best thing for the campaign,” Peter piped up. “Think of the donors.”

Sirius whipped around and faced Peter with a truly ferocious expression. “Fuck the campaign.”

“Easy,” James said, putting a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. He exchanged a panicked look with Remus. The two of them knew how impulsive Sirius could get in his worst moments.

“Five minutes,” a voice bleated out over the speakers.

“That’s our cue,” Peter said nervously. “But good luck, Sirius. You’re going to be truly, truly excellent.”

“Victory is within sight, Black,” James said, slapping Sirius on the back.

Sirius still looked decidedly annoyed. Remus put his hands on Sirius’s face and Sirius softened slightly at his touch.

“Be as wonderful out there as I know you actually are, Sirius Black. Good luck.”

***

The questions came quickly and unceasingly. Rita’s eyes darted back and forth among the candidates, picking at holes in their logic.

“Mr. Weasley, how do you respond to critics who believe that your ideas are too pie-in-the-sky to ever be taken seriously?”

Charlie looked at Rita firmly. “I’d ask them to not count us out before we even have a chance to make our dreams a reality.”

Sirius interrupted. “But your dreams _are_ just dreams, though, right? I haven’t seen any calculations demonstrating that this is feasible.”

“Feasibility does not seem to be high among the list of your own campaign goals, Mr. Black,” Lucius interjected. “Especially considering your inexplicable support for Medicare for All.”

“And progress does not seem to be high among yours, Mr. Malfoy,” Sirius fired back. “Especially considering _your_ inexplicable support for condoning bigotry and hatred.”

“Mr. Malfoy does have a point, Mr. Black. How do you plan to pay for your own campaign goals?”

“If you look at my calculations on my campaign website, by raising a tax on the wealthiest five percent of the population, we would have enough money to fund most social programs on my agenda.”

“And aren’t you among that five percent?” Charlie added, laughing.

“That’s true,” Sirius admitted. “But with all the more reason, I believe that it’s necessary for all of us to pay our fair amount.”

Sirius shone among the three candidates, once again the brightest star in the night sky. Charlie had a fiery personality that inspired devotion among his supporters, much like the golden Enjolras to his Amis. Malfoy, of course, appealed to a return to tradition that endeared him to the conservatives. But Remus felt strongly that anyone in Godric’s Hollow who had a taste for eloquence and good, solid thinking must have been charmed by Sirius’s bold plans for a progressive, history-making future.

Rita Skeeter had drilled into all three of them in turn, both substantively and less so, but Sirius had skillfully managed to deflect from her insinuations that he would follow in his father’s footsteps and evaded attempts to focus on his personal life (she had asked about Remus, and Remus had sunk in his seat before whoever was filming the debate for Facebook Live and the local television networks could find him). Instead, he put forth a polished and intelligent argument for why Charlie Weasley’s ideas had no factual bases to support them and why Lucius Malfoy’s ideas would not only hurt the most vulnerable among them, but also would send Godric’s Hollow back in time sixty or so years.

Sirius ended the debate with a final plea to the voters.

“Congressman Orion Black III represented Godric’s Hollow for thirty years, and contributed to economic and social justice policies that destroyed the lives and livelihoods alike of many people here, including many people I hold dearest to my heart. It is my hope to represent my hometown in Congress and build a legacy that I can be proud of. For this election, I ask you to forget that I am my father’s son, and remember that I am, first and foremost, a child of Godric’s Hollow. Thank you.”

 _Beautiful_ , Remus thought, and he was not sure whether he was thinking of Sirius’s words or the jubilant smile with which he said them.

As the cameras flicked off, the families and staff of the candidates began crowding the stage. James, Peter, and Remus quickly walked up the steps to the stage. Remus spotted Narcisa giving Lucius a kiss on the cheek. She was holding the hand of a young, blonde boy with a pinched face. Charlie was surrounded by his enthusiastic family and doting mother, who kept hugging him tightly. Sirius saw his friends running up the steps and opened his arms wide with a great, beaming grin. The other two Marauders held back slightly so that Remus could rush into his arms.

“Was it good? It was good. Are you proud?” Sirius whispered, standing up on the balls of his feet so that he could lean into Remus’s ear.

“So incredibly proud,” Remus said in a low voice.

“Kiss me, yeah?”

“On stage? Right now? Here?”

Sirius did not wait, but instead pulled Remus in for a kiss that was too short to be considered passionate but which felt electric anyways. James hollered loudly in the back. Remus smiled into it and felt Sirius smiling right back at him with his mouth pressed firmly against him. Finally, the two of them broke apart, and Sirius accepted praise from James and Peter with a smile stamped on his face.

Peter looked slightly queasy. Remus imagined that he must have been as nervous as he had been about Sirius’s performance. “Sirius, you were great. The best of them all.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Sirius said warmly. “Couldn’t have done it without you and Potter and Moony, of course.”

“Wish I could stay and hang around. I have to do something for my family, you know how it goes, but I’ll see you lot tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” James said, slinging an arm around him.

The three of them stared at each other for a while, reveling in the success of the evening.

“McDonald’s?” James said with a grin, adjusting his glasses.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Sirius said eagerly.

The rest of the night passed in a pleasant blur. There was the drive-through, followed by a return to James and Sirius’s apartment for a celebratory bottle of champagne, and finally, after James had disappeared to go speak to Lily on the phone (another fact that Remus buried in the back of his mind to torment her later) Sirius and Remus ended up together in Sirius’s large, comfortable bed.

“What a night,” Remus sighed as Sirius shut the lights off.

“It was excellent,” Sirius said happily. “You know, Moony, I’m starting to actually think that maybe I have a chance of actually winning this thing.”

“I hope you do,” Remus said, smiling softly into the darkness. “And I know you will.”

"You know, I was pretty indifferent to the whole thing. Winning, losing, whatever. I sort of wanted to prove to myself that I can do it. And now it's looking like I might pull this off."

"Mm," Remus said sleepily, pulling Sirius closer.

"I could be the youngest Congressman in a century. End up in the history books, or something, build a legacy for real," Sirius said, his voice leading up to a crescendo.

"That's true," Remus replied. "They'd put you on a postage stamp at the very least."

"Very funny, Moony. Maybe you can be a pampered trophy husband one day. Write books, host political brunches, and all that."

"That would be nice," Remus said softly. "I'd be shit at the event-planning, though."

"I mean you wouldn't do it alone," Sirius said. "You'd have Jamie, and Pete, and me, of course."

The two of them had started to drift off into sleep when the door of the bedroom flew open. Remus sat up in shock. Sirius rubbed at his eyes. James rushed in, looking frantic.

“Potter, what the fuck?” Sirius asked groggily. “What if we had been...you know? Having fun or something?”

“Something terrible has happened,” James said, glasses askew, ignoring Sirius’s question.

“What, did Evans dump you?” Sirius snorted.

“Or did the interns finally quit after having to deal with you for too long?” Remus asked, turning on the light on the nightstand. His heart flipped as he saw James’s expression and clenched jaw.

“Fuck off, both of you,” James snapped, and Remus realized that James was truly upset for the first time in a long time. Remus did not think he had ever seen James looking so angry. “I was looking at the campaign accounts while I was talking to Lily.”

“And what? We didn’t get enough donors from tonight? So what? We’ll check again tomorrow.” Sirius said breezily. "No sweat, Prongs."

“No,” James said seriously, and Remus felt as though the temperature in the bedroom had dropped by fifteen degrees based on the chill in James’s tone. “The money in the campaign account is drained. We’re nearly at zero. And we are massively, truly fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we couldn't expect all the fluff to last forever, could we? 
> 
> thanks, as always, for reading, and special thanks to those who have been kind enough to bookmark, leave kudos, and comment!! stay safe, everyone <3


	10. Chapter 10

No one in the apartment slept that night, and to Remus it felt as though they were running in circles and voicing the same frustrations and statements of disbelief to one another until dawn arose over Islington Place.

“Right, right, yes, my colleague James Potter called a few hours ago to make sure that the account is locked. So you’re confirming that the final withdrawal was made yesterday?” Remus asked the Gringotts Bank representative on the other line for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

“Yes,” the woman replied with a sweet Texan drawl, “that’s correct, sir. A final withdrawal was made yesterday by a Mr. Peter Pettigrew, in the amount of thirty thousand dollars. He arrived with a signed authorization by a Mr. Sirius Black permitting the withdrawal of this amount.”

Remus’s heart squeezed tight. “Alright, thanks.”

“You’re very welcome. Thanks for calling, and please stay on the line to fill out a customer service survey.”

Remus filled the survey out half-heartedly. Then, he turned to look at his two companions with a blank expression on his face.

“So it’s looking like it was Peter, then?” James repeated, scrubbing his hand over his face and smearing his glasses with fingerprints in the process. He looked exhausted and a decade older than he had the night before.

“Looks like it, since he made the final withdrawal yesterday,” Remus sighed.

“But maybe it’s not him?” James asked hopefully.

“Of course it’s Pettigrew, James,” Sirius growled. He had been pacing for hours, and Remus worried that he might actually wear a hole in his varnished hardwood floors. “The bank just about proved it. Who else would it have been? Who else had access to the financial accounts? And here I was thinking we were being smart by giving Peter, the business major, control of the money, instead of handling it myself,” Sirius said angrily. “Famous last words.”

James threw his hands up. “I just don’t want to believe that he would do something like this, you know, to betray his friends and sell us out like this. We trusted him. He’s a _Marauder_ , for crying out loud. We’ve done everything together for years!”

“That doesn’t mean he was always going to be a Marauder,” Sirius seethed. “Clearly our friendship meant nothing to that rat. We should’ve known.”

“What would he even spend the money on?” James asked. “If it was him, I mean.”

Remus sipped at the coffee that James had made for the three of them several hours ago. It was bitter and cold. “Buy Armani suits?”

“Very funny,” Sirius said flatly, rubbing at his eyes. “Not.”

James cracked a smile despite himself. Then, he frowned. “If he needed money, he should have just asked us instead of draining the campaign account. I would have lent him whatever he needed, you know.”

Sirius collapsed on the couch next to Remus, making the coffee in Remus’s mug rise dangerously to the top. He leaned over to reach towards the coffee table and took a long gulp of cold coffee out of his mug. “We were so, so fucking close.”

“Don’t count us out yet,” Remus said encouragingly. “It’s not game over.”

“Of course it is,” Sirius said snappily. “What do you think we’re going to be able to do when we can’t pay the interns? Or for the headquarter rent for April? And forget about advertising and all of that – this is the time when we’re really supposed to hammer the messaging home, and with what money?”

Remus shot Sirius a look. “No need to raise your voice, Sirius. I’m on your side here, remember? But we’ve been ruminating long enough. It was probably Peter. Let’s face it. Time to think about next steps. James?”

“We need something close to four hundred and fifty grand, maybe a little less if we play our cards right,” James said, scanning the comprehensive Excel that he had been staring at for hours. “Of course, it won’t compare to Malfoy’s millions, but we’ll make do somehow.”

“What if we cut out advertising?”

“It would be a losing strategy, Re,” James said, shaking his head. “There just isn’t enough time to figure out what to do anyways.”

“So how much money do we have at this moment in time?” Sirius asked tentatively.

“Practically zero. I called the bank and asked them to not allow anyone to get into the account, so maybe we have five or ten grand in there from donations that came in after the debate and after we figured out what happened.”

“Alright. I know we’ve been over this already, but let’s think – where the hell can we get any of this back?” Sirius asked, standing up to pace once more.

“I could take some money out of the fund my parents set up for me,” James offered. “I’m not supposed to take it out until I’m thirty or something, but I can get them on the phone and explain. They adore you, Sirius, and I’m sure they’d let me speed it up even if it would involve some sort of extra cost biting into the money.”

Remus looked at James with affection and with some disbelief. The Potters were very well-off, certainly, but he doubted that they were rich enough to foot the bill on Sirius’s campaign, even if the two of them agreed to go without a salary until the end of the campaign. He thought about his own rent and how on earth he was supposed to pay for the month. That was a problem for later, he thought, tucking it away.

Sirius thought about it and then shook his head. “No, don’t do that, Prongs. It’s not worth it.”

“You know I’d do that for you,” James said enthusiastically. “I don’t care about the money.”

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but the reality is that the way that we were spending Uncle Alphard’s money and would have to keep spending money to keep this campaign afloat, it’s just unsustainable,” Sirius said miserably. “We’d run out of money in a week. And I’d never forgive myself for draining your account.”

“What about your own money?” Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head furiously. “I can’t. Even that wouldn’t be enough. I only get a certain amount per year, and it can only be used for personal expenses or else the IRS will come banging at my door and demand that I pay it all back to my father’s estate or something. And that last thing I need is to be dragged into probate court. Uncle Alphard’s trust was the only money I had access to without any strings attached. ”

“I think we need a lawyer to answer this,” James sighed. “Should I call Lily and ask?”

“Maybe in a while,” Remus said, and James lowered his phone with disappointment. “Let me try calling Peter’s number again.”

Remus picked up his phone and dialed Peter’s number. Once again, he reached voicemail after a few seconds, and he felt a stab of anger at hearing Peter’s chipper tone instructing him to leave a message. He hung up with some frustration.

“Nothing?” Sirius asked.

“Nope.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” James reminded him weakly. “Right?”

Remus shrugged. He was not feeling particularly charitable at the moment. “I mean, he’s been withdrawing all these amounts every day, James, and made the final withdrawal yesterday. Lily tells me circumstantial evidence is as good as regular evidence in a court of law.”

“But a court of law would say he’s innocent,” James argued.

“Not in this case,” Sirius replied shortly. “The fact that he went off the grid is enough for me to put two and two together. And then the bank confirmed he made the final withdrawal yesterday. I swear, when I find him…”

“Don’t do anything drastic,” Remus warned. 

“I’ll let the Federal Election Commission deal with the consequences,” Sirius promised. “But first, I’m going to beat the shit out of him.”

“That is,” Remus sighed, “if we’re able to find him at all or if he ever shows up here again. No one answered his intern’s phone either.”

“That reminds me,” James said, snapping his fingers. “Let me tell the interns to take the day off. We’re in no real mood or state to talk strategy with them.”

“James Potter suggesting that we take a day off?” Remus asked, trying for humor and failing abjectly.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” James said grimly, tapping at his phone. “Do you think Peter will show up for work?”

“Doubt that he will, or that his intern will,” Remus said.

He felt conflicted. The part of him that adored and would have gladly died for his friends could not fathom the idea of Peter taking the money in one fell swoop, but at the same time, he was not surprised. He had never fully trusted Peter as much as Sirius or James, but had chalked that up to Peter’s more introverted personality and less generous nature. Perhaps he should have followed the canine instinct that had made him distrust Peter from the beginning.

“Have you ever met his intern?” Sirius asked.

Remus thought. He remembered the dark-haired, lean-faced Tom Riddle from the intern biographies on their website, and then recalled seeing him once in person. _Had it been in the office_? No, he realized with a flash of clarity. It had been at his birthday party, when he and Sirius had headed off to his balcony in a haze of drink and delight. Tom had been standing on the balcony, shouting into his cell phone intelligibly. Remus wished desperately that he could go back and figure out what Tom had been saying.

“Once. He was here, at my birthday,” Remus recalled.

“Bastard,” Sirius hissed. “The audacity of him to come enjoy the food and drinks at your birthday party, and then run off with the lot.”

“Do you think they plotted this out together, then?” James asked.

Sirius let out a dark laugh. “Absolutely. Maybe they ran off together to the Cayman Islands. That’ll be a piece of cake to figure out, then. Here’s a thought. Let’s fly out, hire a private investigator, track them down or something, and take a well-deserved beach vacation while we’re at it.”

James frowned. “We can figure out the just desserts for the two of them later, Sirius. And I submitted the FEC complaint at around two in the morning, but they’ll take forever to get back to us with an answer, much less open an investigation into him. For now, we need to figure out how we’re going to get the money to sustain this campaign. Time is money, money is time, you know how this goes.”

“You have any other trust funds lying around without any strings? Isn’t that a thing rich people get?” Remus asked, half-sarcastically. Clearly, the lack of sleep had done wonders for his mood.

“No,” Sirius said slowly. “Most have some sort of conditions. The only trust I know that was free of all conditions was from my paternal grandparents. But they left all their money to Regulus when they died. They hated me. Can’t imagine why.”

“We could always try to get mega-donors to contribute more,” James said thoughtfully, “but there’s no guarantee that they’d be able to fill in the gaps.”

“Right,” Remus agreed. “It would be a hell of a lot of money.”

“We just need a single fucking idea that doesn’t hit a wall,” Sirius said, sitting back on the couch and burying his face into one of the embroidered pillows.

There was a moment of silence. Remus watched as the purple-pink skies bloomed into a brilliant blue over Godric’s Hollow. It really was a beautiful place, this place that he had decided to call his home, he thought nonsensically. Much prettier than the town where he had grown up. The colors were mesmerizing.

“What time is it in London right now?” Sirius demanded, interrupting his reverie.

“Just past eleven o’clock,” James said automatically. “Why?”

“Because we’ve got one more shot,” Sirius said with a slightly pained tone, pulling out his cell phone and scrolling through his contacts. “And I’m going to take it.”

“Who are you calling?” James asked, pulling off his glasses and perching them on top of his head. “My family?”

“Wait. Sirius, are you calling Regulus?” Remus asked, alarmed.

He knew in that moment that Sirius must truly feel desperate, to reach out to his brother. Sirius adored his brother, it was true, and Remus knew that it pained him to feel so estranged from him. But the two did not have an easy relationship. During their more tender moments in college, Sirius had told Remus how their parents had tried diligently to raise both of them in their father’s image. Sirius had tried to shield Regulus from the brunt of their parents’ expectations, his mother’s harsh punishments, their father’s cruelty. Sirius had tried to stay close to his brother even when his parents had sent him off to boarding school, but his parents intercepted their letters and sometimes kept Regulus from taking Sirius’s phone calls at all. When Sirius had made it clear that he had no desire to follow the traditions that had dominated the Black family for generations, Orion and Walburga had worked diligently to drive wedges between the brothers. According to Sirius, they had done nothing short of brainwash him during Regulus’s final years at boarding school, while Sirius was already at St. Godric’s. By the time that Regulus enrolled as a freshman at St. Godric’s during their senior year, it was too late. Sirius’s attempts to reach out to his brother had served futile. Based on what Remus had learned over the last few weeks, their relationship had deteriorated even more quickly after Orion’s death.

“Just as he would have wanted,” Sirius had told Remus just a week or so ago, and though his mouth had been set as though he wanted to spit at the memory of his father, his eyes had looked lost and hurt. “Me and Regulus separated at last.”

“Yes,” Sirius replied now, his jaw high and defiant.

“Are you sure? Sirius, we can find another way,” Remus said delicately. He leaned over to touch Sirius’s hair. Sirius closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“Do you want us to leave, mate?” James asked uncomfortably. He too, knew the difficult relationship that the Black brothers had with one another.

“No, please don’t.”

James leaned across from the other sofa and slapped Sirius on the knee. “We’re here for you.”

He put his phone on speaker, and after three rings, a clipped and slightly bored voice answered.

“You answered,” Sirius said, sounding surprised and heartened.

“What is it, Sirius?” Regulus asked. It was amazing to Remus how he could sound just like Sirius, but several degrees colder. “Make it fast. I have twenty minutes in between classes. Are you calling to complain about our mother again? I already told you, I have absolutely no interest in getting involved in whatever dispute the two of you are having.”

“It’s not about her. I promise,” Sirius said quickly. “It’s about the campaign.”

Regulus paused. He stopped to greet someone on the other side and then pressed the phone closer to his ear so that his voice sounded slightly muffled. “I already told you that I disagree with the way that you’re handling this and making everything so incredibly…public.”

“I…understand,” Sirius said haltingly, and Remus could tell that Regulus’s criticisms were stinging him in sensitive places despite his concerted efforts to look nonchalant. He leaned over to take his hand. Sirius squeezed it back.

“Do you actually?” Regulus asked. His tone was flat.

Sirius clung to Remus’s hand. “Well, yes.”

“Why are you calling?” Regulus asked.

Sirius inhaled painfully. “There’s a bit of news on my campaign, you know. This is off the record, so please don’t tell anyone, or else the media will have questions that I’m not sure we can answer. My chief financial officer embezzled money from the campaign. We’re completely penniless.”

“Who’s your chief financial officer?”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Sirius said with gritted teeth. “Remember? From college?”

“Let’s see. Not Potter, and not your, um, boyfriend, both of whom I assume are there with you right now, so that leaves the short blonde one. Yes, I do remember him.”

“Yeah, he stole away like a thief in the night, like in the movies,” Sirius said.

“That’s despicable. I’m sorry, Sirius.” And to his credit, he did sound genuinely sorry to hear it. For a moment, Remus wondered if Sirius had taken the right path. Perhaps they were saved. “Can you use your own money?” Regulus asked.

“I can’t. You know the terms of the money I have, I’m not allowed to spend it on anything but personal use, and this isn’t personal use by a long shot.”

Regulus sighed heavily into the phone. “What do you want me to do about this?”

Sirius inhaled and then blurted out the words quickly.

“Would you be willing, maybe, to donate money to our campaign from the trust fund our grandparents left you?”

Regulus laughed. “Are you kidding me right now, Sirius? You expect me to willingly fork over, what, hundreds of thousands of dollars? A million dollars?”

“More like five hundred thousand.”

“Oh, is that it? Just that?” Regulus asked sarcastically. “Hi, Gemma,” he called out to someone who walked by.

“Regulus, I know that we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye on a lot of this, but I’m still your brother and I’m asking you for help,” Sirius begged. “You know I wouldn’t be asking you if it weren’t urgent.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, during which Sirius held Remus’s hand so tightly, he felt as though the circulation would be cut off, and then Regulus spoke.

“Would you be willing to change your campaign messaging?”

James and Remus looked at each other.

“What?” Sirius asked after a beat.

“I asked, would you be willing to change the way your campaign was run?” Regulus asked again, and his voice was steady. “You know how I feel about you degrading our father in public, and you know how I feel about you exposing your…um…relationship, for the sake of campaign publicity. Stop flaunting it. If you agreed to certain…changes, then maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I gave you the money. I certainly am not going to use it. And you can do some good with it, for the sake of the family name.”

Remus expected Sirius to tell Regulus off immediately. Sirius was bold and impulsive to the point of being reckless. Sirius would never allow someone, not even his brother, to just dictate his decisions, especially during the campaign where he had stood up to an entire group of the wealthiest and most influential conservatives in Godric’s Hollow, come out on national television, and engaged in a short-lived fake dating scheme that had quickly turned into a revival of his college relationship.

_Right?_

Sirius wouldn’t do that to the campaign. He couldn’t do that to Remus. Time ticked by, and still Sirius was quiet. Remus stared at Sirius in disbelief. Sirius glanced over at him and then looked down at the carpet.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus whispered. “Are you gonna answer?”

Sirius was silent.

“Are you still on the line, Sirius?” Regulus asked impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here,” Sirius said finally. He ran one hand through his hair. “Can I think about it?”

Remus heard the sounds of footsteps on cobblestones through the speaker and imagined Regulus striding through the old-school grounds of the University of Oxford.

“What do you want to think about?”

“I don’t know, Reg, maybe the fact that you just asked me to change a whole bunch of things in a campaign that is pretty far along. Not to mention, changing a bunch of things about myself.”

“How much time do you need to decide?”

“Two weeks.”

“Give me an exact date.”

“Can you give me until April first?” Sirius asked.

“April?”

“I don’t know, eleven-fifty-nine on March 31?”

“Fine,” Regulus said crisply. “But I do think it’s in your best interest to make a decision quickly. It’s already past the middle of March, and the election is April 30.”

“And here I was thinking that you didn’t pay attention to what’s going on in my neck of the woods,” Sirius said.

There was a pause. “I have class now.” Regulus hung up suddenly.

Morning had really made its presence known in Godric’s Hollow now, and the sun illuminated the living room from top to bottom. Remus blinked against the sunlight but turned towards it anyways, refusing to turn back towards Sirius. As the three of them sat in silence, the thoughts bubbled in Remus’s mind until they felt as though they might explode.

The fact that Sirius was even entertaining Regulus’s offer told Remus everything that he needed to know. How could he have been so stupid to think that Sirius Black would defy his family once and for all? How could he be so foolish to think that their rekindled romance would be everything Sirius needed? And how, _how_ could he have been so reckless as to rush back into a relationship with the same person who had broken his heart once upon a time and possessed all the same tools to do it once more?

“Well,” Sirius said faintly. “At least we have one way out of this, right?”

James sighed. “I don’t know, Sirius. This doesn’t seem like a foolproof way out. I mean, do you really want to run the rest of this campaign with…well…Regulus’s conditions just sort of looming over your head? We’re only halfway through this campaign, you know, Sirius. It’s a long time from here until April 30.”

“And more than that, are you willing to just set everything that we’ve worked on to the side, then?” Remus asked coldly. “Just so your brother will give you the funds to run this campaign?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I thought we were on board to do whatever mattered for the sake of the campaign. Isn’t that why you agreed to start our fake relationship, before it became an actual relationship?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think that succeeding in this campaign involved giving up our principles in the name of ambition.” Remus shot back. “As clearly, you’re willing to do. What happened to making a historic platform for yourself, changing the Black family heritage and all that?”

“That’s not fair, Remus. I _am_ changing the Black family legacy! My father is rolling in his grave right now, I’m sure of it.”

“Can you please make a single fucking decision on this campaign without thinking about how much your father would hate it?” Remus shouted. “Are you running out of spite, or are you running for yourself?”

“I’m running for _myself_. And I’m running for you!”

“For me?” Remus scoffed.

“Lads, let’s get back to the topic at hand,” James interjected, but he was drowned out almost immediately by Remus.

“Are you going to take Regulus’s money, or what?” Remus demanded.

Sirius tossed his head back. “I don’t know, but it’s a thought and an exit plan at the very least. We have no fucking idea where Pettigrew is, and we have no idea what happened to the campaign treasury money or if it’s even in the country. We’ve got to act fast. I mean, think about it logically, if Malfoy’s campaign figures out we’re out of cash, they’ll up their spending in a heartbeat and beat us. And it’s not like Regulus is saying we have to, I don’t know, adopt Malfoy’s platform, and it’s not like he’s asking if I’d consider going back into the closet and announcing I’m suddenly straight or something, he knows the damage is done–”

“Excuse me, _the damage_?” Remus asked incredulously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sirius winced at his words, and then immediately apologetic. “Moony, I didn’t mean it like that.” He reached for Remus’s hand, but Remus tore it away.

“So then what _do_ you mean, Sirius? I’m dying to know here.”

“Hey, Re,” James said gently, “I know maybe he didn’t use the right words, but I think all of us are just under a shit ton of pressure right now.”

“James,” Remus said, standing up from the couch, “I appreciate you and love you, and I always have, but I really don’t feel like hearing you defending Sirius for the millionth time. He can take accountability for his own actions.”

“I take accountability for my actions,” Sirius protested.

“Clearly, you don’t.” Remus began walking around the couch and towards Sirius’s room.

Sirius jumped up. “Wait, where are you going?”

Remus looked at him hard. “Are you seriously considering taking Regulus up on this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James tip-toe back to his room. He imagined that he would call Lily up immediately and tell her everything that had happened in the last twelve hours with excruciating detail.

Sirius seemed to melt slightly underneath Remus’s glare. “Yes. But it’s for the campaign! I want to do this for _you_. I want to win for you, Moony, because without you, I never would have felt like I could even win this in the first place.”

“Then you sure have a funny way of showing your appreciation,” Remus said darkly.

“It’s not like Regulus is telling me to break up with you, and even if he did I would have told him to fuck off,” Sirius pleaded. His grey eyes were unnaturally bright, as though he were on the brink of tears.

“No, he’s just asking you if you’d be okay with never talking about me for the sake of the Black family name,” Remus retorted. He silently walked into Sirius’s bedroom and began searching for his belongings. Sirius closed the door gently behind them.

“I mean, I’m mad, don’t get me wrong, but–” Sirius started.

“To think,” Remus interjected, “we couldn’t last a fucking week before you went and did something like this. We fake-dated longer than we actually dated this time around. Absolutely brilliant.”

Sirius’s eyes widened in alarm.

“No, no, no, Moony, please don’t do this.” Sirius begged. Remus continued moving around the room, collecting his things.

Sirius lowered his voice. “Baby, please.”

“Don’t call me baby. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just tell you to fuck off right now, Sirius.”

“Because we’re sleep-deprived and making shitty decisions.”

“True, but that doesn’t change much.”

“Because we’ve just had to deal with one of our best friends betraying us,” Sirius tried again.

“Yes, but the point still stands that not even twelve hours passed before you were willing to sell yourself out for your brother’s money,” Remus said.

“Because I love you.”

“That’s…that’s not a good enough reason either,” Remus faltered, “even if it’s true.”

“Maybe not, but I do love you.”

He felt Sirius behind him, burying his face into the back of his neck and kissing the soft, baby curls closest to the nape. He could feel Sirius’s teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Remus,” Sirius said quietly, and his name sounded like a hymn in Sirius’s mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you. I’m so tired. I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore, and I don’t know what I’m doing, and you are definitely entitled to be furious with me but please don’t run out just now.”

Sirius carefully turned him around, pressing him gently against the wall. Remus let Sirius kiss him for a long time, until he felt as though the air had all been pushed out of his lungs. He pulled him closer until all he could feel was Sirius’s heart racing against his chest. Sirius looked up at Remus with an expression so bright and hopeful, it almost took Remus’s breath away. And though Remus knew that the version of Lily inside of his brain was shouting at him to leave, to curse Sirius out for being a hypocrite, to demand that they figure out what they were going to do, to figure out where the fuck Peter Pettigrew was so that they could tear him apart, to follow up with the FEC in the hopes that they could save them from what would surely be a painful few weeks, he could not bear to do it. Yet he forced the words out anyways.

“I’m going home.”

“At least stick around to see if we hear anything today, from the bank, or the FEC, or even Pettigrew himself,” Sirius asked.

Remus weighed his options and then slumped his shoulders in exhaustion.

“Fine,” Remus said. “But I don’t want you thinking all is forgiven or forgotten or anything else. I’m going out to the couch.”

“No, I’ll take it,” Sirius said, and he began pulling one of the blankets off his bed. “You take the bed. We can talk about this at some point when we both have slept for more than ten minutes. I really am sorry, Moony.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Sirius said simply, as he finished pulling off one of the blankets. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m being an idiot, and I know it.”

Remus closed his hand around Sirius’s slender wrist and kissed him brazenly. Sirius looked at him in surprise. “Shut up. Come here.”

Despite their mind-numbing exhaustion and the fury that had nearly swept the room up into a tempest, they were surprisingly tender with one another. Sirius was almost shy about it, and he kept asking Remus for permission to kiss him here, to touch him there. Remus was reminded of when they had slept together for the first time, how nervous and eager to please Sirius had been, how Remus had felt as though he had never been held so carefully in his life, how everything had felt so right.

As they reclined in bed together afterwards, Sirius blissfully stroked Remus’s hair. Remus curled into his chest despite his initial attempts to remain on opposite sides of the bed.

“You know, even if everything else fails,” Remus said with a lightness he did not feel in his heart. “We can just be friends with benefits.”

Sirius looked at him, with a faint edge of hurt in his voice. “Oh. Is that really what you want?”

“Well, if Regulus doesn’t want us _parading_ around or whatnot, then we might as well. But I’m leaving the campaign team in that case. I can’t support you doing this or lend you any credence through your words. I’ll still sleep with you, though.”

Sirius laughed nervously. “You’re not being serious, Moony?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Not at all,” Sirius said fervently. “I can’t imagine this campaign without you.” He paused for a moment. “Are you still trying to break up with me?”

“Depends. Are you still thinking about taking your brother’s offer with all the conditions attached?” Remus asked.

“I know that I shouldn’t even be entertaining this. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen, and that all of our hard work is just going to slide down the drain if we can’t figure out what to do.”

Remus propped himself up on his elbow and looked right into Sirius’s extremely tired and melancholy grey eyes. They looked like they were clouded by fog. He put his hand on Sirius’s cheeks. His skin was dewy.

“Go to sleep, okay? We’ll figure it out somehow.”

“Okay,” Sirius said softly. “And you’ll stay?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, settling in next to Sirius once more and letting his eyes close of their own accord. “I’ll be right here.”

***

Time spun ceaselessly, endlessly, maddeningly, as though it were on record with no beginning or end. As Remus had expected, neither Peter nor Tom reported for work that day, nor any day thereafter. Friday bled into a frantic weekend, which seeped into a week where they spent every minute either attending some campaign event and pretending that everything was fine, just fine, or huddling together in the apartment and trying to put out fires that seemed to crop up everywhere.

The atmosphere was a terrifying, real-life version of their final examinations. Every day felt like a question that had no real answers attached, every day brought more chaos, fewer hopes, more fear, fewer smiles. The Federal Election Commission reached out only once with a bureaucratic promise that they would look into the complaint and that they could expect a response within sixty (60) business days. Gringotts Bank promised that they would look into why no one had looked into the withdrawals with a keener eye, but could not promise that the money would be returned to Sirius at any point, unless a government agency sought restitution. April first, the day that Sirius had promised to answer Regulus, loomed large.

While Sirius, Remus, and James had originally planned to keep Peter’s betrayal among the three of them, they realized almost immediately that there was no way to keep the campaign going _and_ try to figure out how to make up for the heart-breaking monetary blow they had been dealt by themselves.

They called in their friends.

Lily, whose trial had finally come to an end, searched through public records and court documents to try to figure out where Peter might have gone and whether there were any details on Tom’s whereabouts (none – he was an orphan whose last known kin had died nearly a decade ago, which he had not represented in his background check). She wrote to the District Attorney, the State Attorney General, the United States Attorney’s Office, anyone who could possibly be involved, and received nothing but an outpour of silence. Mary had been recruited to work on their graphics and advertising for free (with Rupert’s blessing – it turned out he had had a blast at Remus’s birthday and was inclined to look fondly on them), cutting at least some of the costs that James acrobatically tried to minimize. Marlene argued back and forth with the FEC and Gringotts over the phone and by email, alternately threatening to sue them for their uselessness and trying to sweet-talk them into working more quickly. Dorcas, who had been sworn to off-the-record secrecy, negotiated with her television network so that they could run ads during her show at a fraction of the price. Alice, whose family had deep roots in Godric’s Hollow, engaged in a personal phone campaign to try to woo distant family members into becoming donors. Frank, a police officer, tried to coax his influential union into supporting Sirius in the campaign.

The flowers began blooming in earnest in Godric’s Hollow, the spring rains began pelting them every day, and the election was five weeks away, then a month away, and still, Sirius did not make a decision. While the activity around him was desperate, and though his inner turmoil had almost certainly multiplied (or at least, Remus guessed, based on the number of times that he had caught Sirius walking sleeplessly around the apartment in the early hours of the morning), Sirius seemed to be stuck turning his wheels incessantly into the ground even as while he pasted on a smile to charm the union of transportation workers, gave a speech at a high school for principals and educators, and visited the hospital administrators of St. Mungo’s to discuss healthcare for all. He did not call Regulus and did not speak of the lingering, outstanding offer, even as the self-imposed deadline approached. April first was a looming and omnipresent figure during their conversations that seemed to suck all of the air out of the room.

During that horrible, chaotic week, Remus put pen to paper as he never had before, writing into Sirius’s speeches intense and poetic promises that he would always be true to the people of Godric’s Hollow and would never betray principles. The speeches were beautiful, full of rich storytelling that poured out of Remus’s heart and straight out of Sirius’s mouth. But the speeches were also pointed, a reminder from Remus that Sirius could not and should not back out of his principles for the sake of ambition. In a pattern that seemed to go on and on, Sirius would ask Remus to please dial down the language in his speeches, Remus would refuse, they would argue, they would bring in James or Lily and sometimes both to mediate, they would apologize, they would chalk it up to the immense pressure, and they would continue working on this campaign with every waking moment.

The days kept spinning faster and faster. James’s birthday on the twenty-seventh came and passed with remarkably little fanfare and with distracted promises of an eventual celebration. Remus marked his calendar for April first, right next to the nursing home visit that Sirius was supposed to make on the thirtieth and the homecoming visit at St. Godric’s scheduled for the evening of March 31 – perhaps the last event of Sirius’s campaign, or perhaps the last event in which the two of them would be holding hands and Sirius would be answering questions about his relationship. Either way, Remus had the sinking feeling that something would be coming to a swift and devastating end.

And then without warning, the endlessly spinning record finally snagged and fell silent. It left behind a lingering, tinny sound. Just after midnight, Remus tore a page off his calendar. Twenty-four hours remained in March.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a hard chapter to write because of the angst, but you know what they say: it's always darkest before the dawn. now, time will tell how close to the "dawn" we are in this story...
> 
> thanks for reading! i am really grateful for all of the kind words and all of the bookmarks, etc.


	11. Chapter 11

The final event before Regulus’s drop-dead date was to be held at St. Godric’s. In the mad dash to the question and answer session that was fittingly named “Homecoming,” Remus thought frequently of their collegiate days. How glorious those remembrances were to him, that not even the bitter recollections that followed could dull their sheen. He clung to those halycon days even and perhaps especially as he and Sirius tiptoed painfully around each other in real time. He was seized with a sort of restless energy about it. Remus would start drafting up a speech for Sirius or talking points for the question and answer session and realize halfway through that he had, in fact, been writing down stream-of-consciousness memories. At some point, he began sacrificing his sleep to compile these notes on his own time. He felt itchy with sleep. He felt as though his muscles protested for rest. He had never felt more alive.

It felt fitting to open at the close. St. Godric’s was not the sort of place to deny their students the glories of ceremony, and Commencement was the lavish king that ruled over all other university spectacles. The St. Godric’s marching band, led by Professor Filius Flitwick of the Department of Chemistry, paraded throughout the grounds starting at dawn, with the purported goal of awakening every single senior on campus.

On Commencement morning, Remus woke up with Sirius wrapped around him. Rather than allow Sirius to pull him back into bed, Remus had to be the one to shake James (and Lily, who looked rather embarrassed to be discovered by Remus, though _he_ was completely unfazed) and Peter out of bed. Remus returned to his bedroom after taking a shower and brushing his teeth to find Sirius still sprawled out on the bed and seemingly dead to the world.

“It’s graduation, Sirius,” Remus called out impatiently, pulling out the crisp white dress shirt and tailored suit that Sirius had insisted on purchasing for him from one of Godric’s Hollow’s boutique stores. “Wake up.”

Sirius yawned loudly and flipped over, his bare back partially covered by Remus’s sheets and drizzled with sunlight that had begun seeping in through Remus’s slightly open blinds. That image of Sirius imprinted itself onto Remus’s eyelids: drowned in dazzling rays of sunlight and yet outshining every last one of them.

“You’re going to feel really stupid, Sirius Black, when you don’t get your diploma because you couldn’t drag your ass out of bed.”

Sirius cracked open an eye just to watch Remus struggle with his silk tie – crimson and gold, the colors of St. Godric’s, a present from James to all of the Marauders – in front of the mirror that was tacked onto his wooden closet door.

“But if I never get a diploma, maybe I can stay here and you can keep me company.” Sirius said throatily. He reached an arm out and grasped the very edge of Remus’s black jacket, pulling him towards him. “And we can just live here. Or maybe we can both become professors or something and stay at St. Godric’s forever. That sounds like we’d be living the dream.”

“Tell me how we would become professors if you don’t get your degree?” Remus asked, allowing Sirius to kneel on his bed to fix his tie. Remus had to duck down so that Sirius could wind the fabric around his neck, a craft that had taken Remus several frustrating minutes and which seemed to take Sirius mere seconds.

“I’d think about that later, or maybe Dumbledore can vouch for us.” Sirius said loftily. “You look hot as hell in that suit, by the way.”

Remus tugged anxiously at his tie. He turned towards his mirror and set about trying to do something with his hair, which he had once again forgotten to get cut.

“You think so? I think I look stupid.”

“I know so. Lucky me,” Sirius beamed.

Remus smiled shyly. Sirius flopped back down on the bed dramatically.

“I guess I should get dressed or _something_ ,” Sirius sighed. “Or maybe not, and go out with a bang.”

Remus grinned at him, meeting Sirius’s gray eyes in his mirror. “You’re shameless. McGonagall would never let you. And Dumbledore would just about lose his mind.”

“Good,” Sirius said, stepping out into the common room with just his underpants on. “Well, good morning Evans! What brings you here? Fancy a drink?”

“Fuck off, Sirius,” Lily called over her shoulder as she made a beeline towards the door. She closed the door swiftly behind her.

“That’s my wife, right there, that’s Mrs. Prongs,” James said dreamily to no one in particular as Lily left the room.

Sirius snorted and headed towards his room. “Yeah, I’m sure she thinks the same. Especially when you’re looking so dashing in your jammies, Jamie boy.”

James looked annoyed. “I got these when–”

“Yeah, James, we know,” Remus said with amusement from his own room. “Chelsea won the Champions League in 2014 or something.”

“Mister Lupin,” James said with an excellent imitation of Professor McGonagall’s firm tone, “it was 2012. In 2014, it was a whole different world.”

Sirius fake-yawned so loudly, Remus heard him from his own room.

James looked furious. “I get no respect here! I can’t believe no one wants to hear about this, not even Black. He was on the soccer team here, for crying out loud. Shoddy excuse of a vice-captain, I tell you.”

“James,” Peter said kindly, coming out of his room and slumping on the sofa. He was already dressed in a navy blue suit that was slightly too baggy at the cuffs. “No one cares.” He popped open a bottle of champagne and began pouring out drinks for the four of them.

James proposed a toast to the Marauders despite Remus’s warnings that they were going to be late.

“Gentlemen, it has been an honor,” James said genuinely, pushing his round-rimmed glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Knowing you has been the highlight of my entire life thus far. And though we may have faced our trials and tribulations, like that one time Peter caught the two of you having sex, that girl Peter dated who kept stealing our shit, that time that Sirius broke his ankle and was on crutches for the whole winter, our sophomore year defeat against the University of Durmstrang in the soccer championships, Remus’s one and only B+ in a class – a truly devastating occasion for all of us, the fact that Lily Evans still refuses to be my girlfriend, _and_ the fact that Chelsea has kept losing the Champions League for four years straight…”

“Speed it up, would you?” Sirius demanded with a lazy smile.

“Alright, Black. Anyways, despite that, mates, we have had one hell of a time together. I have learned so much from the three of you about loyalty, and bravery, and what it means to find home wherever it is that you can find it. And you all know that you have a home with me wherever life takes us. Cheers to us, to the Marauders, and to good old St. Godric’s.”

The four of them took long, hearty swigs of their drinks. Peter started singing along to the St. Godric’s fight song, and Sirius slugged him on the back.

“You’re all my best friends,” Peter chirped.

“It’s been the honor of a lifetime,” Remus said, and he meant it down to his bones. He felt funny and slightly woozy from the rush of champagne and the headiness of the moment.

“The pleasure was all mine,” Sirius said, bowing to all of them. “Now let’s go fucking graduate, shall we?”

They raced down the steps of their wing of Carrow House – banging on the door of Lily, Alice, Mary, and Marlene’s suite loudly on the way out the building – and ran outside into the stifling June heat. The sweet smell of freshly-cut grass and the faint, unpleasant odor of manure hung over the grounds. Professor McGonagall, their freshman advisor-turned-head of house, corralled them into two approximately straight lines outside of the ivy-strewn, brick-faced Carrow House.

“Do you think that everything’s going to change now?” Remus asked Sirius as they assembled, one after the other. James was a few spots ahead of them in line, trying his best to line up next to Lily, who was ignoring him pointedly.

“Why would it?” Sirius asked. He looked surprised.

“Because it’s the end of something.”

Sirius seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts. Remus tilted his head up and closed his eyes, absorbing the sunshine. He listened to the parents, family members, and friends beginning to crowd around them to take photographs. He could hear Mrs. Potter’s soft voice and Mr. Pettigrew’s booming laugh. Somewhere nearby, Mr. and Mrs. Black were almost certainly watching Sirius like hawks, Regulus by their side.

Remus thought about how he would never again spend a late night in the library with Lily and Alice, scribbling furious notes and trying to keep from getting kicked out from laughing too hard. He thought about the dorm room that he would have to empty out within the next seventy-two hours. He thought of James, Peter, and of course, his Sirius, the fearless Marauders that he never could have anticipated loving when they had first stepped into Avery Hall.

Suddenly, the reel of memories from the last four years felt like a moonage daydream slipping through his fingers. Had the four years even happened, he wondered, or were they some dreamlike fantasy in his head? Just as he began to panic about the abstractness of it all, Remus felt a sudden touch on his shoulder. His eyes shot open and he blinked several times against the light. There was Sirius – magnificent even in the world’s most unflattering polyester, brilliantly solid and tangible and as real as anything Remus had ever known.

He was watching him with a funny look that Remus would return to in the days and weeks afterwards and scrutinize relentlessly with the knowledge of what would come later. “What’s wrong with endings? At least it means that something else is beginning, right? Plus, the Marauders are forever. And you and I are too, Moony.”

And then he kissed him, and the world faded into a shimmering, pristine black.

***

After a slew of sleepless nights spent working on the campaign and thinking at length about his relationship with Sirius and writing during the wee hours of the morning, Remus had fallen asleep on the sofa while he was finishing off the talking points for Sirius’s homecoming event at St. Godric’s. He dreamt thrice. Each dream was more disorienting than the last.

In the first, they were racing through the grounds of St. Godric’s on one of those brilliant autumnal days that had sold Remus on the idea of New England in freshman year. Somewhere nearby, Lily was laughing uproariously and James was telling a long and dramatic story, but Remus’s eyes were fixed on Sirius running right in front of him. Sirius looked back at him mid-laugh, ready to tell Remus something, a secret, probably, Remus could feel it, when suddenly he fell through what looked like a curtain that covered a split in the center of the sky. Remus ran to the split in the world that had opened up, and could hear only a paragraph of whispers escaping from the gaping hole. He looked back and saw only an empty field. James and Lily were nowhere to be seen. Remus prepared to jump into the stretch of earth that had swallowed up Sirius. Everything faded into a terrifying black.

In the second, he and Sirius were skiing at the winter lodge in Vermont where James had taken them all during junior year. The world was covered in a blanket of white powder as they raced down the small mountain where Remus had determinedly tried to learn how to ski. Somehow, in the dream, Remus was the experienced skier and Sirius was the one learning how to ski for the first time. The two of them laughed as Sirius face-planted over and over again into piles of brilliantly white snow. Then, after falling for what seemed like the tenth time, Sirius began clutching at his side and wincing. Remus ran to him.

“What happened?” Remus asked in the dream.

Sirius looked down and removed his hand. Blood was gushing out of his side. Remus frantically tried to strip him down to find the wound, but he could not figure out how to get the ski suit off him. He screamed for James, for Lily, for anyone, but the wind drowned out all of the sounds.

“But you were good to me, and that’s all that mattered,” Sirius said encouragingly, and then somehow, he became Peter, and then everything faded to black once more.

The final dream began with a brilliantly lit summer day. Remus was at a racetrack that he had only seen on television once before, a big oval fairground swarmed with spectators. Remus was trying frantically to bet on horses for some inexplicable reason. He asked desperately who was running, and when no one answered, he kept throwing money at people – Regulus, Severus Snape, even Florean Fortescue, all of whom kept trying to toss the money back at Remus.

Then, the horses appeared. With a sinking, horrifying feeling, Remus realized that the horses were made of shadowy skeletons and began falling apart into a pit of quicksand as soon as the race began. Only he could see that the horses were made of bones, and he kept trying to tell the other spectators about it, but no one was listening. The crowd kept jeering and screaming at the horses to run faster, to trot even more quickly, and Remus kept trying to make his way down to the racetrack to see whether the horses were going to be alright, to see if Sirius was fine, because it wasn’t a horse made of bones and nothing else, actually, it was Sirius himself sinking slowly into a quicksand that gobbled up all of the bones, it was a quicksand that would swallow up time itself if he let it, it would eat him alive without a second glance like a great gaping monster, but Remus could not move even as his feet and legs burned with useless exertion. He looked down and suddenly, the racetrack was the quad at St. Godric’s, the place where Sirius had asked him to be his boyfriend and the clouds were beginning to gather just as they had on that day, but instead of the oak trees and the tulips that had been there, it was covered with grainy quicksand that funneled downwards and made a horrible squelching sound.

“Sirius,” he yelled helplessly in the dream. “Sirius, I’m coming.”

He could not reach him in time. The look on Sirius’s face was pained as he slipped underneath the quicksand. Remus finally reached the pile of quicksand and jumped in after him. Everything faded to black once more.

“No, Sirius,” Remus muttered over and over again. “Sirius, Sirius, Sirius.”

Someone was shaking him, and dragging him out of the darkness.

“Sirius?”

“Moony, wake up,” Sirius said, gently shaking his shoulder. “Remus, I’m right here.”

Remus opened his eyes with a gasp. He scanned the room in front of him. No quicksand, no bones, and no horses. Sirius was kneeling on the rug next to him with his hand gently on Remus’s shoulder. Remus’s other cheek was stuck to the fringed pillow on Sirius’s couch, and his neck was crooked in a painful position. Someone – Lily? James? Sirius? – had thrown a blanket on him at some point. All of his index cards were scattered on the floor, though his pen was still dangling limply from his left hand. He let it drop.

He felt shaky and very, very cold despite the blanket. All he could think of was Sirius, Sirius in a pile of bones on the racetrack, Sirius falling through the veil, Sirius bleeding out on a mountain, Sirius who was now here and beautifully, wonderfully alive, all flesh and brain and nerve and heart and eyeing him with an uncertain look. Remus’s heart pounded so quickly that he could not hear over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. Tears sprang to his eyes inexplicably as he jumped into Sirius’s arms, and they raced down his face as he held Sirius tightly. Solid, real, Sirius. “Holy shit. Sirius.”

He leaned down and buried his face in Sirius’s shoulder, barely registering the quiet words that Sirius was saying to him. Sirius wrapped his arms around him and got up on his tip-toes so he could kiss Remus on the top of the head. They stayed like that, arms around each other, swaying slightly, for what felt like nearly an hour, until Remus’s neck ached even more from ducking down but his breathing had settled. Remus had almost forgotten the way that Sirius’s hands fit on the small of his back and the way that he held him as though he were the only thing worth touching. It was a delight to have his memory refreshed.

It was the longest that they had held one another in an entire week. During campaign events, they had held hands tentatively, as though they were afraid that a single wrong touch would trigger a chain reaction that ended with an explosion. As soon as the events were done, they let go of one another with uncertain looks. Remus had been unsure about raising the issue – after their argument, the idea of initiating intimacy with Sirius had felt like a bad idea. This time, the feeling of Sirius pressed against him felt right in a way that Remus could not quite describe even with the finest vocabulary that he had learned from St. Godric’s. The classics would have felt like a mockery, and they felt even more inadequate as Remus kissed him once, hesitantly, and then again with real meaning.

“This feels nice,” Sirius said, sliding his hands slowly over Remus’s back. “I missed you. I missed having you in my arms.”

“Are you okay?” Remus asked nonsensically, stepping back so he could sweep his hands over Sirius’s angular jaw and sharp cheekbones.

“Yes,” Sirius replied quietly, taking Remus’s right hand and kissing it softly. “I’m fine and everything is fine. Are you okay?”

In a flash, Remus remembered the slew of dreams and felt suddenly embarrassed. He paused for a beat and looked down at the carpet. “Sorry, it really wasn’t a big…deal or anything. I had a nightmare.”

“About what?”

Remus sat back down on the sofa, putting a hand on his heart. “Um. Horses?”

“Actually?”

“Yes.”

“We used to go horse-riding when we were kids. Regulus had this ugly ass horse named Creature. Fastest one at the academy though,” Sirius said thoughtfully.

Remus managed a smile. “Of course you did. You and your rich kid equestrian camp. What time is it, anyways? Are we late for the…for the event?” He looked around the living room and tried in vain to shake out the crick in his neck.

Sirius looked mildly amused, though it was hard to make out his features in the dimness just before dawn broke. “Not at all. It’s four-thirty in the morning.”

“Why are you awake?” Remus asked, rubbing at his eyes. “Where’s James?”

“He and Lily went to sleep about an hour ago. Is she ever going to acknowledge the fact that they’re as good as dating now?” Sirius asked wryly.

“Absolutely not,” Remus said flatly. “They could be married and have a child and she’d still deny that she ever gave James the time of day.”

Sirius shook his head and sat next to Remus on the couch. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his pants and stared at the floor, his smile quickly fading. Remus looked over and studied Sirius, the figures and contours of his face and body now appearing in the midst of the darkness that flooded the room as Remus’s eyes adjusted to the nighttime. He reached over and took Sirius’s hand. It felt like a peace offering as their fingers interlaced with one another.

“Can’t sleep?” Remus asked.

“No,” Sirius admitted. “I’ve tried everything. I even had some of that chamomile tea you love, and nothing.”

Remus studied Sirius and tried to look as though he was not. He looked pale and exhausted.

“I keep thinking…there has to be a solution, you know,” Sirius said slowly. “And I’m just not seeing it.”

Remus looked at the coffee table and at open pages of _The Prophet_ spread out on the table.

 _Black Pulls Ahead of Weasley in Latest Poll_.

_Malfoy Dodges Questions on Real Estate Investments._

_Twenty-four Percent of Voters Undecided in Lead-Up to Special Election._

He felt a sharp stab of something run through him like he had been struck by lightning. In his sleep-addled state, he started to put the pieces together but could not quite figure out what it was just yet.

“I had a nightmare about you, you know,” Remus said finally. “That was the nightmare. Well, there was more than one, actually. But in the last one, you were the horse.”

Sirius gave him a sly look. “Wow. A _Brokeback Mountain_ wet dream? Giddy up.”

“No, not like that,” Remus said, laughing through his nose despite himself. “It was like, you were a horse, and you were a skeleton, and then all the bones fell apart. Then there was quicksand and it sort of swallowed you up. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all,” Sirius deadpanned.

“Asshole,” Remus whisper-shouted, throwing the pillow at him. Sirius groaned as the throw pillow hit his side. For a moment, it felt just like old times, like there wasn’t a deadline looming over them, like the last week had not been so incredibly tense, and like everything was back to normal. “You should go to sleep.”

“So should you,” Sirius shot back.

“I _was_ asleep, mind you, and then you wanted to ask me questions about the horses.”

They both knew that was not the truth, not by a long shot, but Remus was grateful that Sirius let him off easy and did not press him any longer. Remus pulled the blanket over him and reclined back on the couch again, putting his legs in Sirius’s lap. Remus suddenly felt desperate to feel the solidness of Sirius as much as he could.

“Do you want to come to bed?”

Remus tried to give him a smirk, though the effect was ruined by the large and enthusiastic yawn that made his jaw click. “Wow. That was fast.”

Sirius looked mildly apologetic and immediately shy about it. “Not like that. I just…thought you might not want to spend the rest of the night on the couch, that’s all.”

Without saying anything, Remus picked up the teal blanket and shuffled off towards Sirius’s room. He did not want to pretend to argue about it, not after the absurd nightmares that nonetheless lingered uncomfortably on the edges of his mind. Sirius followed him and closed the door with a quiet click.

“I dreamt about St. Godric’s too,” Remus said. “We were back there.”

“Yeah? It must be because you’re thinking of the event,” Sirius yawned.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about our time back there. And writing a lot about it,” Remus said, sitting down on the corner of the bed. “I’m going to be honest, Sirius, your talking points are sort of in shambles. I’ve been writing about college instead – today I wrote about graduation, for fuck’s sake. But you’ll have something brilliant to say by tomorrow, I promise.”

Sirius looked interested. “I don’t care. Whatever you cobble together is bound to be better than anything I could come up with on the spot, Moony. But you should keep writing about it.”

“Writing about what?”

“College. Maybe you can write a book about it someday,” Sirius said sleepily. “You can make me the extremely sexy, charismatic main character.”

“Narcissus drowned himself, remember that?” Remus warned.

“Hm, is that what happened to him? Poor dumb son of a bitch.”

“I sort of want to write about it one day.” Remus said idly. “Sounds ridiculous, though.”

“You’re going to write it,” Sirius said easily, as though he were talking about the sun surely rising in an hour or so. “It’s not ridiculous to think that it’s going to sell millions of copies and make us all household names, most of all you. Remus John Lupin, the acclaimed writer. You’ll make history as the youngest writer to ever win the Pulitzer.”

Remus rolled his eyes. But then he paused. “You really think I could do it?”

“Sans aucun doute, Moony.”

They finally climbed into bed together, Sirius on the side closer to the door, as though they had done this a million times. Remus’s brain wondered what it would be like if they _could_ do this a million times. A million times falling asleep in each other’s arms, a million mornings waking up by each other’s sides, a million cups of tea (for Remus) and coffee (for Sirius), a million kisses and hugs and stupid arguments over whose turn it was to wash the dishes. The idea of spending the rest of his life with Sirius Black did not bore him in the slightest. The idea of losing him, even in a dream, had nearly caused him to become undone with grief.

Remus thought of the book that he could one day write, perhaps, in a not-so-distant future. He could almost feel the cover in his hands. He imagined Sirius by his side as he wrote feverishly into the night, holding his hand through book tours, cheering him on. He thought about Sirius, who had trusted his writing enough to bring him onto his fledgling campaign, who had thought his words powerful enough to charm an entire city and who had nearly succeeded. Sirius, who had told him over and over again how brilliant his words were and how he was eager to listen to them.

And then, as though it were the middle of the day rather than close to dawn, Remus had a sudden flash of clarity that made him sit up straight in bed. He could not allow Sirius to give up his own dream that easily. He’d be damned. If this is what Sirius wanted, then Remus would not stand in his way. He couldn’t do it.

“What’s wrong? Do you want a cup of tea or something?” Sirius asked tentatively.

“I love you,” Remus blurted out. He realized a moment too late that despite thinking it a dozen times over the course of the last several weeks, he had not said this to Sirius straight out since the day after graduation.

“Really?” Sirius asked eagerly.

“Yes.”

Sirius turned to face him, the fabric of the sheets crinkling underneath him. Remus felt Sirius’s steely gray eyes on him. Sirius sat up next to him.

“I love you too. I mean, you know that already.”

“Sirius, we need to talk.”

“Wait, if you could? I was thinking of how I was going to tell you this, and how I was gonna tell Jamie, but I don’t think I can do this.”

Remus’s heart sank. “Oh. Do what?”

“Take Regulus’s offer.”

“What?” Remus asked. He froze. “Why? Sirius, we still have–”

Sirius put his hand on Remus’s forearm as though to stop him. “I know, I know, and I’m not going to tell Regulus until tonight, but the reality of this is that I…I can’t do this without you, Moony. And if this is going to be a deal breaker, then I’d rather have the deal broken. Or, wait, I fucked that up. If this is going to be a deal breaker for you, then I’m willing to give up Regulus’s offer even if it means the campaign goes down. I don’t care. I’d rather have you. And you’re right, I shouldn’t abandon my principles for money. That’s not the sort of person that I am and not the sort of politician I’m trying to be. So, what do you say?”

“No.” Remus replied flatly.

Sirius looked crestfallen. “Oh. Really? No?”

“No,” Remus said firmly. “Sirius, I’m not letting you do this. I…I…I can’t let you give up when we’re so fucking close to the finish line. The last month has been a roller coaster, but I can’t bear to see you get off it when we’ve already made it through the worse part. Take the money. We can always abandon Regulus’s…whatever it is he wants, when you’re in office already. Look at the papers. You have a shot to do something incredible here, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you to take that opportunity. I just got scared to lose you, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened over the last few days. It’s been miserable.”

“I’ve been miserable too,” Sirius confessed.

“So? What do you think?”

Sirius thought for a moment. Then, he raised his chin stubbornly and met Remus’s gaze. “No.”

“ _No_?” Remus asked in disbelief, raising his eyebrows. “Sirius, I’m telling you that I won’t mind if you take the money, even if Regulus wants you to shut up about our relationship and never talk about it again, and even if he wants you to stop talking about your father’s fucked-up legacy, it doesn’t matter. I want you to do it.”

“Well that’s a damn shame,” Sirius said easily, “seeing as I already decided that I don’t want to be the sort of politician who compromises my morals for the sake of donations. I’m not going to quit the campaign just yet. But I’ll make do with what we have.”

“You’re going to sink the whole thing,” Remus said desperately. “Sirius, think rationally. Think of how expensive it is to run this campaign.”

“This is the most rational I’ve been in a long time, Moony. I don’t want to win if it means that I won with money that my brother gave me only because I gave into his stupid conditions.”

“Maybe we can negotiate the conditions, then?” Remus asked desperately.

Sirius shook his head. “Regulus is one stubborn son of a bitch.”

“It runs in the family, I’m guessing,” Remus said bitterly.

“Maybe,” Sirius grinned. “I’m going to do this on my own terms. And maybe, who knows, maybe the Fates will smile on us again and help us win even if we’re dead broke.”

“Again?” Remus said idly, thinking of Peter and of Regulus’s offer and the chill between himself and Sirius that had only broken over the last hour and a half. “When the hell have the Fates smiled on us recently?”

“When they put us back in each other’s lives,” Sirius said flirtatiously.

“You charmer,” Remus said affectionately. “I don’t think you should make any decisions on no sleep, though.”

“Eleven fifty nine is my deadline.”

“Good. So there’s plenty of time to change your mind, then. This is your dream, Sirius. I don’t want you to miss your shot at making history.”

Sirius looked at him fondly, and echoed the very same words that Remus had said to him what seemed like a dozen lightyears ago. “History, huh?”

Remus leaned over and kissed him hard, like he was swearing an oath. In a way, he was. He promised himself that he would help Sirius Black win this election if it was the very last thing he did.

***

The event was due to begin at eight o’clock. They made a motley crew as they crossed the grounds and filed into Flint Hall at quarter to eight – James and Lily at the front, speaking quickly, followed by Dorcas and Marlene, then Mary, talking animatedly with Frank and Alice, and finally, Remus and Sirius at the back, hands linked so tightly that their circulation seemed at risk of being cut off.

“It feels so strange to be back here,” Mary said as they stepped into the backstage area of Flint Hall, where just over two weeks ago, Sirius had dazzled in the debate. “I don’t think I’ve been back to campus since we graduated.”

“Lucky you,” Marlene said with a sniff. “I have to teach all my annoying undergrads in here.”

“McKinnon, you’re practically an annoying undergrad,” Sirius said. Marlene turned around and smacked him on the shoulder.

“Also, like four years ago, _we_ were those annoying undergrads,” Alice laughed.

“Speak for yourselves,” Frank said simultaneously. Dorcas agreed.

“Frank, you’re two years older than us,” Marlene groaned. “Don’t do this.”

“So tell me again how this event came to be?” Marlene asked.

“The university political groups are hosting events with individual candidates so that undergrads and faculty, as well as other university staff, can get to know the candidates running for Congress in a more intimate way,” Dorcas said, reading from the pamphlet that a starry-eyed undergraduate had handed her as they entered the theater.

“But this one is just Sirius?” Mary clarified, leaning over to look at Dorcas’s pamphlet.

“Yeah, they already had Charlie Weasley on the eighteenth and…oof…Malfoy on the twenty-fifth. Sirius is the last one up.”

“So they saved the best for last,” Sirius said boldly.

“You know, it would be _nice_ if we could get some peace and quiet to think,” Lily snapped suddenly, turning around. She seemed as tightly wound as the bun stacked on top of her head. Remus wondered whether James had told her about Regulus’s exploding offer and Sirius’s sudden decision to turn his brother down. He would not be surprised. Most of their friends were all were presumably operating under the presumption that donor funding alone would be enough to cover at least the basic costs for the next few weeks. But Remus had the sneaking suspicion that Lily knew more. Remus had told James that morning that he and Sirius had switched sides on Regulus’s offer. James had looked endearingly confused and then had shaken his head, mumbling something about them getting their kicks off of stressing him out.

“You’re right, sorry, Lily,” Alice said apologetically. “We’ll be out in the audience. Good luck out there, Sirius,” she said, patting Sirius on the back. Dorcas, Mary, and even Marlene gave Sirius big hugs. Frank shook his hand enthusiastically. Remus, James, and Lily were the only ones left. 

“Are you okay?” Remus asked quietly, touching Sirius’s arm, pulling him aside slightly.

“Never been better, Moony. We’re going to make it through this event, and then I’m going to call Regulus and tell him to take his money and fuck off.”

Remus shook his head angrily. “Don’t be stupid about this, Sirius. We talked about this last night.”

 _And this morning, this afternoon before lunch, right after lunch, during dinner, on the car ride over, and twenty minutes ago_ , Remus felt like adding.

“And I told you that I made my decision,” Sirius said coolly.

“I won’t forgive myself if you turn down Regulus’s offer on my account. Be reasonable.”

“Monsieur Lupin,” Sirius said with an infuriatingly good French accent, “I have never been reasonable a single day in my life and I’m not planning on starting today. But you have to realize that I am making this decision for _me_.”

“What are you lot talking about?” James said warily, stepping towards them.

Sirius laughed. “Prongs, I’m guessing that you already told Evans all about my brother’s offer.”

James looked vaguely guilty and then looked at Lily. “Yeah.”

“In his defense,” Lily said, “I’m extremely persuasive.”

“One hell of a future lawyer, Evans,” Sirius grinned at her. “Remind me never to cross you.”

“And you told Lily about Sirius’s stupid idea to turn his brother down, too?” Remus asked.

James once again gave them an unbearably guilty look. “Yeah.”

Sirius turned to Lily with a grin. Compared to the anguish of the last few days, Remus realized, Sirius looked positively bursting with delight. “So what do you think I should do, Evans?”

Lily looked thoughtful. “Pragmatically, I think you should take the money, as long as Regulus doesn’t ask for too many conditions. On another level, I understand the reluctance to compromise yourself with any conditions. My final conclusion is that you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, and both places suck.”

“I think he’s being a fool,” Remus declared.

“Listen, Remus, I’ve spent enough hours of my life trying to convince Sirius to do something other than what he wants to do,” James said, running his hand through his messy dark hair. His eyes creased as the smile stretched across his face. “If Sirius wants to turn Regulus down, then that’s what he’s going to do. And we’ll just go from there.”

Remus opened his mouth to debate James on this, when they were suddenly interrupted by a crisp voice behind them. “Ms. Evans, Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin, and of course, Mr. Black. Welcome back to campus.”

They swiveled around to see Professor McGonagall looking at them with the hint of a smile on her mouth. She was standing next to Professor Dumbledore, the University President.

“Professor McGonagall, have you missed having me nearby?” Sirius asked grandly.

“Hello, Professors,” Remus said with a nervous smile.

“I have been keeping up with your campaign, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes sparkling. “Very powerful messaging. A fresh change of pace for Godric’s Hollow, indeed.” He looked at Remus and then back at Sirius meaningfully.

Professor McGonagall turned towards Sirius. “Professor Dumbledore will be introducing you, Black, and then you’ll be receiving student comments. The event is being moderated by a few of our students, our outgoing student body co-presidents, Mr. Cedric Diggory and Ms. Angelina Johnson. They’ve been soliciting questions all week from the student body, professors, and staff. And I must say, they’re _very_ keen to see you. The audience is rather full this evening, wouldn’t you say, Albus?”

“Oh yes. Everyone’s very eager to see one of Godric’s Hollow’s own in the limelight.”

“The event’s about to begin. Ah yes, and here are Mr. Diggory and Ms. Johnson now.”

The two students – a tall young woman with glowing dark skin and dozens of braids, and an even taller young man with shaggy brown hair that nearly fell into his eyes and rosy cheeks – approached Sirius and his entourage shyly.

“It’s a real pleasure, Mr. Black,” Cedric said, extending his hand.

“We’re happy to have you here, on behalf of St. Godric’s,” Angelina said as Sirius shook her hand enthusiastically. “We’re about ready to begin, whenever you are.”

“Looks like that’s my cue.” Sirius grinned.

“Good luck, you tosser,” James said affectionately, hugging Sirius tightly.

“Yes, good luck…Sirius,” Lily said, looking vaguely uncomfortable at addressing Sirius by his first name, “you’ll do a great job.”

Sirius looked at Remus shyly. For the last week or so, the two of them had exchanged perfunctory hugs before events. This time, Remus leaned down and kissed Sirius hard, nearly forgetting that Dumbledore and McGonagall were only a few yards away. When they finally broke apart, Sirius looked triumphant, as though he had already won.

***

To the credit of St. Godric’s, the students who asked questions were in many ways more prepared than the reporters who had interviewed Sirius over the last few weeks, Dorcas excluded. They asked thoughtful questions about healthcare, and transportation, and education, which allowed Sirius to breathe life into the words that Remus had finalized just a few hours before. For most of the questions, Remus had been able to guess exactly what Sirius would say.

_Healthcare matters for me. When I broke my leg in college and was on crutches for a long time, I never worried about how I was going to pay, and that shouldn’t be an issue for anyone._

_Transportation is key to a functioning society. When it fails, low-income communities and communities of color are disproportionately affected._

_We need to invest more money in the public school system. Educational outcomes are heavily dependent on zip code, even in Godric’s Hollow, and that is unacceptable._

The final question was asked by a willowy blonde sophomore.  
“Mr. Black, or Sirius if you prefer. My name is Luna Lovegood, and I’m a sophomore studying Ancient Mythology and Folklore. What is your favorite memory of your time at St. Godric’s?”

Remus recited the answer in his mind that the two of them had prepared with James’s help. _Being a member of the Godric’s Hollow soccer club was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Being vice-captain taught me about loyalty, leadership, and the importance of teamwork._

Sirius paused. Remus raised his eyebrows. James looked over at him.

 _Did he forget_? James mouthed.

Remus shrugged.

Sirius looked over to where Remus was sitting and grinned delightedly at him.

“Thanks for asking, Luna. My favorite memory at St. Godric’s? That’s hard. I’m going to say that my favorite memory of all was the first real date I ever had with my boyfriend.”

“Oh my gosh,” Remus whispered, sinking in his seat.

James snorted. “Typical.”

Remus felt a flush creep across his face as Sirius wove the tale of the elaborate picnic they had had, how they had kissed in the midst of the tulips and grass on a beautiful day in early spring (Remus thought he might die even as Sirius gave only the barest description of it), how the sky had opened to pour down on them in the middle of the grounds, and how Sirius had shouted over the thunder and the rain to ask Remus to date him several times until Remus registered it. The audience ate it up.

Sirius grinned crookedly at Remus over the heads of the audience members after he finished. “Like I said, my time at St. Godric’s was one of the greatest things in my life. Winning this election would be another one of the greatest things in my life, and what a beautiful responsibility that would be. It is my hope that you will believe me when I say that I am committed to the people of Godric’s Hollow and will help me defend its best interests in Washington later this year. This is my home. And I want to make sure that everyone feels home here as much as I do. Thank you so much.”

The event ended with roaring applause for Sirius, who stood up and waved at them with a gorgeous smile that stretched from cheek to cheek. He looked dapper in his dark suit, perfectly creased, with his hair styled as messily as James had let him get away with wearing it. Remus hurried backstage to meet him, flanked by James and Lily. Dorcas and Marlene had gotten caught up by a slew of undergraduates who wanted Dorcas’s signature, and Alice and Frank were catching up with Professor McGonagall. Mary was talking about hair salons and comparing braids with Angelina Johnson.

“You brilliant idiot,” Remus grinned. “Had to put me on the spot there, didn’t you?”

Sirius pulled Remus into his arms wordlessly.

“You were amazing, Sirius,” James said delightedly.

“Yeah, Black, I can’t say that was a catastrophe. Of course, I think that Re deserves all the credit.” Lily said.

“I mean, agreed, but what about me?” James asked sulkily.

To Remus’s infinite surprise, Lily shot him a brilliant smile instead of telling him off. “You did okay, too.”

James glowed.

“Thanks, all. As much as I get off on your praise, I’ve got to call my brother,” Sirius said suddenly, looking down briefly at his watch. He looked determined. “It’s almost time.”

Remus’s stomach churned.

“To say yes, right?” Remus demanded. “You’re going to say yes.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side and smiled at Remus absentmindedly.

“You’ve _got_ to say yes,” Remus urged. “For this campaign, Sirius, or else I’ll do it myself and impersonate you over the phone.”

Sirius waggled his tongue at Remus and dialed. He frowned, and then hung up, before redialing again, and then once more for good measure.

“What the fuck?” Sirius asked, peering at his phone.

“Is he…not answering?” James asked, looking puzzled.

Remus consulted his watch to make sure that they were indeed on time. Yes, it was nearly ten-thirty, but they had over an hour to go before the deadline. Surely, Regulus could not have decided that he would not answer. Perhaps he had already retracted his offer, Remus thought with panic.

“Where could that bastard even be?” Sirius demanded. “It’s like six in the morning over there. Maybe he’s studying in the library, or off with some girl, or–”

“Or perhaps,” a clipped, smooth voice said suddenly, and they turned around to see Regulus Black walking towards them, his blue-gray eyes fixed straight on Sirius, “he’s right here.”

Remus’s vision slipped into a blanketing, opaque black once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone has been staying safe <3 thanks for reading!


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